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Chapter Text

The sun was setting as you stumbled down the narrow and cobbled streets of Fortuna. Thunder rumbled overhead as the sky grew darker and the few citizens who were hurrying home for the day glared warily at you, a stranger. Fortuna, while a beautiful city, was ruled by the Order of the Sword and incredibly hostile to any originating from outside the island. Ducking into a small alleyway off of the main road, you bend over and gasp for breath while cradling your swollen belly.

 The you flinch and pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders before retreating further into the alley as a pair of guards stride past with lanterns. By this time the sun has completely set and the only light came from the storm candles flickering in various windows. Heaving yourself off of the wall you stagger, exhaustion weighing down your limbs, and continue making your way through the streets. Your emaciated form shivers as the cold wind buffets you about, causing you to stumble again. There’s a loud crack and the sky lights up for a moment before thunder booms overhead and freezing rain begins to pour down, soaking your form in seconds.

You slowly trudge up the street as you slowly approach your destination. Glancing at the weather beaten sign you climb the steps and knock weakly on the door to the Fortuna Orphanage. Several minutes pass before you finally hear movement from inside and the door is cracked open to reveal a woman appearing to be in her late thirties. “Can I help you?” She asked with a suspicious tone.

Your lip trembles. “Please… I have nowhere else to go.”

Her brown eyes take in your soaked and shivering form, lingering on your rounded stomach, and they soften slightly. Swinging the door wide, she steps out and takes your elbow to guide you inside.

Two months had passed since that night in the rain and you seemed to have found a place for yourself at the orphanage. You learned that the kind woman who let you in that night, Venia wasn’t the official matron of the orphanage. She and her husband, Quies, were volunteers who assisted the elderly woman who ran the place. After speaking to her at length, the matron agreed to let you stay as a live in assistant since it was difficult for the couple to be there all the time due to their own young children.

Your pregnancy made it difficult for you to play with the children, but you were able to draw on your faint memories of teaching at an elementary school to help the young ones learn reading and arithmetic and even though you couldn’t play with them, the children were fascinated by your belly. They would always ask to touch it and would be amazed when they felt the movement within.

While the children and kind matron of the orphanage quickly grew attached to you, the majority of the townsfolk remained wary and even hostile towards you. Rumors circled the town as people speculated on the cause of your condition. You never said a word as you walked the streets with your head held high, personal pride not allowing you to bow in the face of speculation and slander.

It was a quiet day in early spring when things changed for you. It was early afternoon, and you had just put the younger children to bed for a nap and were teaching the older ones about Sparda and his betrayal of Mundus and subsequent rescue of humanity. Normally the matron of the orphanage would teach these lessons but the lingering chill of winter was causing her to feel every one of her eighty years and she had remained in bed that morning. You had brought her some tea earlier and had been touched by the sight of one of the three year olds reading their picture book to her as the elderly woman listened seriously. The matron waved off your concerns, telling you that she’d be “Right as rain in the morning!” before shooing you off to the children’s lessons.

After quizzing the older children on Sparda’s tale, you stood to wake the little ones from their nap so they could play while you prepared dinner when you felt a sharp pain in your lower belly. Gasping, you doubled over with a low groan as the pain left as suddenly as it came. All of the children gathered around you asking if you and the baby were alright when you felt another pain and wetness rushed down your legs to pool on the floor.

Ignoring the shocked exclamations of the other children you looked at the oldest, Haine, who stood up straighter when you said his name. You were taking slow deep breaths as you instructed him on what to do. “Haine, I need you to run as fast as you can to Madam Venia’s house. Tell her that my water has broken. She will understand and know where to go. Stay with her and help her with anything she needs. Alright?”

He nodded quickly and was out the door in a flash, excited to have such an important job. You looked at the other children who were still gathered around you in concern and you sighed before asking them to help you clean up your mess, insuring that they washed their hands well after the act and having them wake the younger ones to go play in the yard. You ducked into the matron’s room to tell her what was happening and she was very understanding, smiling in a wistful way as she remembered her own children’s births.

When Haine returned with Venia and the midwife, you were seated in the kitchen counting the seconds between your pains. They were still several minutes apart and you could somehow tell that the battle to bring your child into the world would be long and drawn out. Venia and the Midwife carefully guided you to your room and helped to change into a loose shift before having you lay down on the bed while the plump midwife carefully checked you over.

She was quite cheerful as she declared you to be in excellent health before beginning to coach you on what to expect during the later hours of labor. Venia gave you a gentle smile before quietly exiting the room and going down to keep an eye on the children who were beside themselves with excitement when they heard that the baby was coming.

Hours had passed and it had quickly grown dark. You grit your teeth with a groan as pain wracked your body. Venia gently wiped your brow with a wet rag and you sank back into the pillows as the contraction passed. She had returned to your room after putting the children to bed and you appreciated the comfort that her familiar figure brought. Your pains were coming faster now and the midwife was optimistic, saying that everything was progressing smoothly. “Unfortunately,” The energetic woman said as she bustled around the room. “It will be quite some time before you’re ready to push so I would recommend that you get what little rest you can.” She levels a look at Venia. “You as well Venia, I know that you will be up and running after those children as soon as the sun is up. There are still many hours left, you know as well as I that childbirth is not a quick process.”

Venia pursed her lips and glanced at you and you smiled tiredly at her. “Go. Midwife Elaine is right. I will try and get some rest and you should as well.”

The kind woman sighed and nodded. “I know, I just want there to be someone there for you during this. I will sleep in the spare room tonight and will take care of the children in the morning so you don’t need to worry.”

You nod and smile at her and give her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I know that you’ll be coming in to check on me every thirty minutes.” Venia blushes and gives you a sheepish smile before quietly following Elaine from the room and shutting the door behind her. You sigh and carefully lean back against the pillows before closing your eyes in an attempt to get some sleep.

The next day passed in a blur. You had slept lightly, occasionally woken by a contraction, and woke to the sounds of excited children. Elaine had stepped into your room for a few minutes in the morning to bring you a bowl of plain oatmeal and during the afternoon Venia allowed the children to come see you for a few minutes. As the sun started to set your pains had noticeably grown closer together and more intense. Elaine had returned to the room and after a quick examination said that you would likely be ready to push shortly after dark.

You groaned. By this point you were already exhausted by both the pain and the lack of substantial rest. After she had ensured the children were in bed, Venia returned to your side and took your hand once more as another contraction washed over you. You gasped and let out a cry as you squeezed your friend’s hand. The pain seemed to last forever and once it passed you fell back against the cushions breathing heavily. Elaine checked you over once more before telling you that you would need to push on your next contraction as she situated herself between your legs.

When the pain came you were ready and began to push as hard as you could. When it passed, you were gasping as if you had just run a marathon. This continued for quite some time, the only sounds accompanying your pained cries were Elaine instructing you and Venia’s quiet words of encouragement. After a particularly long contraction something seemed to give, and you felt your child leave your body in a rush as you fell back with a sob. The cries of a newborn filled the room while Venia gently stroked your hair and Elaine joyfully cried “A healthy boy! Well done Y/N!”

The midwife carefully handed your son to Venia to be cleaned while she talked you through the afterbirth and helped you into a clean shift. Once you were reclining comfortably against the pillows, Venia brought the clean and tightly wrapped bundle to you and you got your first glimpse of your son. You held him in your arms and drank in the sight of the child you had carried for so long. The most noticeable thing about him was the tuft of stark white hair sprouting from his head and you gave a rueful smile. ‘Just like his father…’ You thought.

Gently dragging a finger down your son’s cheek, you smiled softly as he turned towards the touch and began rooting. Guiding him to your breast he quickly latched onto your nipple and began sucking strongly. Venia watched all of this with a faint smile before reaching over and carefully brushing his cheek. “What will you call him?”

Your tired e/c eyes continued to stare at the infant in your arms, determined to engrave this moment in your memory and you smiled your first truly happy smile since coming to Fortuna.

“Nero.”

Chapter Text

You hummed quietly in the orphanage kitchen as you prepared lunch for the fifteen children in your care. It had been five years since the birth of your son and you had completely adjusted to your quiet life on the beautiful island. The previous summer the orphanage’s elderly matron had finally passed much to the sorrow of all the townsfolk and after much deliberation from the church you had been installed as the new matron. While most weren’t happy with an outsider being in charge of so many of the younger generation none of them could deny the way you had with the children.

You had settled into your new duties quite easily and the children had bloomed under your care. You looked up at the sound of laughter and running reached your ears and a stampede of bright-eyed, sweaty children rushed into the room followed by a grinning Venia. You chuckled quietly before sending the children to wash up and giggled at the sight of Venia’s young daughter Kyrie dragging Nero along behind her, completely ignoring his complaints. Quickly finishing the sandwiches you were making, you scooped up the platter and placed it on the table along with pitchers of lemonade while Venia put out plates for each of the children as well as you and her.

After a moment, she glanced at you. “You seem happier.”

You pause. “I… suppose I am.”

She smiled. “I’m glad.” After placing the plates, she retrieved the glasses and started setting them out. “When you first arrived, there always seemed to be a cloud over you. You would smile, but it would never reach your eyes. I didn’t even know you could sing until I heard you with Nero a few weeks after he was born.”

You moved back to the counter and began to slice one of the large watermelons that you had gotten at the market the day before. “I took lessons as a child.” You heard Venia still behind you, painfully aware that she was completely focused on you now. You had never spoken about your past. “I had private lessons when I was young, then was a soloist in a choir once I grew older.”

You will forever deny the squeak that escaped you when the older woman threw her arms around you in a crushing hug. You did not squeak. However, you couldn’t deny your teary smile when you heard her heartfelt “Thank you.” She hugged you until you heard the sounds of the children returning and discretely distracted them so that you could wipe your eyes. It felt good to have a friend.

Small arms wrapped around your legs and you looked down to see the blue eyes of your son peering up at you. “Mama…?” He asked quietly and you smiled down at him. He could always tell if something had upset you.

You gently ruffled his hair, grinning when he scrunched up his nose and tried to fix it. “It’s nothing Darling, Mama’s just happy.” He inspected your face for a moment longer before nodding and trotting off to sit with Credo and Kyrie, who immediately began chattering at the white haired boy as her brother rolled his eyes and reached for a sandwich. There was a round of delighted cheering when you brought out the watermelon that you had sliced and you burst into laughter when Nero and Credo started an impromptu seed spitting contest with the other boys, much to the girls’ horror and disgust.

Gazing at the group of chattering children and the woman who had somehow become your best friend without you even realizing, you felt the warm glow of happiness build in your chest and you smiled. You didn’t know when it had happened, but somehow Fortuna had become your home.

That night you were sitting in bed reading a book about the time when Sparda ruled over Fortuna in an effort to gain a deeper understanding of the town when you heard a knock on your door. Lowering your book you called for whoever it was to come in and frowned when the door cracked open and your son’s face peered in. “Nero? What are you doing up? It’s far passed your bedtime.”

He pushed the door open further and rung the hem of his shirt in his hands while biting his lip. “A-Are you mad at me…?”

You set your book down and looked at him in confusion. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

He squirmed a bit. “Cause I saw you crying? And girls don’t like it when boys see them cry?” His answer was more of a confused question than a statement and you chuckled.

“Come here Darling.” He walked over to you, bare feet quiet on the floor and the door swung shut behind him. He stopped at the edge of the bed and you patted the space beside you. Nero quickly scrambled into the bed and you wrapped your arm around his small shoulders when he tucked himself into your side. “I’m not mad at you. Yes, some girls don’t like to be seen when they cry, but that’s usually if they’re sad. I was crying because I’m happy.”

He looked up at you with an adorably confused face and you fought the urge to coo. “Why would you cry if you were happy?”

“Crying happens when you get so full of an emotion that you can’t hold it in. People will cry if they’re happy, sad, or even angry or frustrated.” You tell him gently.

He thinks about that for a moment before nodding. “Okay… But what made you happy-cry, Mama?”

“I was just thinking about how lucky I was to have you and Madam Venia and the other children.” Nero nods again before letting out a yawn and you smile. He must have kept himself awake worrying about you. “Do you want to stay in here with me tonight?”

Predictably, he scowled up at you and you had to fight back your grin, happy that you know him so well. “Mama… I’m a big boy now! Big boys don’t sleep with their parents!”

You giggle and wink at him. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

He hesitates, obviously wanting to give in but not wanting to seem ‘little’. After a moment, he caves and snuggles down under the covers as you switch off the light on the bedside table. You carefully tuck the blankets around him before lying down and smiling as he shifts to curl into your side. You smile softly and gently run your fingers through his soft hair as his breathing slowly evens out. You were just drifting off yourself when you heard him quietly speak up again.

“Hey, Mama…?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Love you…”

You gently press a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you too, Darling.”

Chapter Text

“Am I a freak?”

You gasp and whirl around, dropping the sheet you were hanging on the clothesline. Nero was leaning on the railing of the porch with a solemn look that seemed out of place on the eleven-year old’s face. You press your hand to your chest and try to calm your racing heart as you bend down to pick up the fallen sheet, sighing at the fresh grass stains. It would have to be rewashed. You set the sheet to the side and turn to your son. “Nero, you startled me! Shouldn’t you be at lessons right now?”

He stands up fully and looks at you with an uncomfortable expression, nervously twisting his shirt and shifting from foot to foot. “A-Am I a freak?” He quietly repeats.

You stare at him in confusion and slight anger. “What? Of course not! Why would you say that?!”

He looks down and mumbles. “Some of the other kids… Not the ones from the orphanage, the ones that live further inside the city. Th-They said that I’m a freak because I have white hair and because I don’t have a dad.” He glared at the ground and sniffed, angrily wiping away the tears that had formed. “After that they pushed me and said that outsiders and freaks should leave and never come back.”

You sigh and dust your hands off on your apron before walking over to him and placing your hands on his shoulders. For a moment you marvel at the fact that he was almost as tall as you before looking him in the eye and speaking slowly and with certainty. “Nero, you are not a freak. Having white hair or being raised without a father does not make you any less than them.”

He still looked dubious and you sighed before sitting in one of the patio chairs, indicating for Nero to sit in the other. He hesitantly sat and looked at you as gathered your thoughts. “Darling… As you know, I was born and raised outside Fortuna.” He nodded, unsure of where you were going with this. “What you don’t know, is that I come from a place with similar ideologies.”

He looked confused. “What do you mean?”

You shifted, looking uncomfortable. You really didn’t like talking of your past and this wasn’t an aspect that you were particularly proud of. “I was raised in a secluded town in the Appalachian Mountains called St. Edith. The town, while slightly more open to outsiders because of it’s prestigious school, was run by the town council and strictly Catholic. Women, while educated, were expected to remain at their homes and look after the children and household. Men, were expected to go out each day to do hard labor and bring home food to put on the table. While it was archaic, it was all those born in the town knew and other ideals were considered to be… sacrilegious.” You looked down at your lap to where you were wringing your hands in discomfort. “I know why the other children say such things because I used to do the same. Both of my parents’ families had lived in St. Edith for generations, my father was even on the town council. I had grown up being told that our way of life was right and that anyone from the outside was to be shunned, belittled, and made to feel unwelcome.” You look up and meet Nero’s surprised gaze evenly. “It was all I knew, just as it is all that the children of Fortuna know. I won’t tell you to forgive them, nor will I tell you that these are their parents words and not their own. While the parent influences the child, it is still the child’s decision to act on that influence.”

Nero gazed off into the distance as he processed your words with a frown on his face. His expression reflected your own discomfort and you had to force yourself not to shift uneasily. Wordlessly he stands and walks back into the orphanage and you force yourself not to follow, instead returning to the laundry. As you mindlessly removed and folded the dried laundry before replacing it with freshly washed linens your mind wandered back to your early years.

Though you were the daughter of a councilman, you were never truly accepted by your father. In fact, he had told you many times that he would have preferred a son to follow him onto the council. In an effort to prove yourself to him you became the model child, the perfect daughter. You excelled in your studies and practiced your singing diligently, becoming the youngest soloist in the church’s choir. The townsfolk praised you, saying that God had blessed your father with an angel. You had basked in the attention, and grew to be quite full of yourself.

When you grew old enough, you attended the private boarding school in the abbey on the outskirts of town. The school, while exclusive, did take students from outside the town and it was the first time you had ever interacted with outsiders. You would sneer every time you saw someone you didn’t recognize, going out of your way to exclude them. You would shove books from the girls’ hands, belittle them, sabotage their schoolwork and would encourage the other girls native to St. Edith to do the same. While you couldn’t personally do anything to the boys, you’d spread rumors, encourage the native boys to shove them to the ground, and even bait them into getting into trouble with the teachers. You were the queen bee of the school and you made sure that everyone knew it, until… Lilith.

Lilith Michaels was a fair haired girl from Chicago who had been accepted into St. Edith Private Academy because of her exceptional musical talent and high grades throughout elementary and junior high school. When you’d heard about the circumstances of her acceptance you grew quite jealous, feeling threatened by her. Lilith was softhearted and sweet but not very confident and she quickly became your… favorite. You capitalized on her quiet nature and proceeded to bully her mercilessly. You would shove her in the hallways, sometimes ramming into her so hard she was forced to the ground. You’d steal her school work and rip it up in front of her. You’d sit behind her in class and whisper that she would never be accepted at St. Edith, that she was worthless and that her parents had sent her to the secluded school to get rid of her, and that she wasn’t worthy to step foot in such a sacred house of god. One time you even cut her hair off in the middle of class. She cried that day.

The sight of her tears made you feel powerful. The rest of the school quickly joined in on your extended bullying campaign. Her dorm mates would cut up her clothes with scissors, the boys would stuff garbage into her book bag, and the teachers turned a blind eye to it all. After all, they too were from St. Edith and an outsider needed to learn her place. The bullying continued for two and a half years and Lilith began to grow more and more withdrawn. She would slouch in class, hunching over to make herself small. Her once beautifully maintained hair now fell lank and limp around her face. She would flinch every time she saw you or heard your voice. She never spoke out in class, she quit the choir, and started spending more and more time hiding in her room. You were smug. You felt that you’d taught her where she belonged and that your hold over the school was secured. Until one day she didn’t show up to morning mass.

At first, no one worried. It was just assumed that she was feeling sick that morning and had slept in. While missing it was frowned upon, morning mass was optional. Then she missed first period, then second. By third period, the teachers were worried. They sent a girl to the dorm to check on Lilith only to panic when it was reported that she wasn’t there. A manhunt ensued. The Abbey and grounds were scoured with no sign of her and she wasn’t found until two days later.

The morning she went missing, Lilith had walked up the mountainside to one of the many cliffs. There –judging by the objects found (a bible, crucifix, and small goblet)– she had performed her last morning mass before stepping off of the hundred fifty-foot cliff. Her skull fractured on impact, killing her instantly. The town covered up the suicide and reported it as an accident. The story was accepted since falls of that sort were a common enough occurrence and life seemed to go back to normal. However, Lilith’s death changed you.

When you heard about what had happened you vomited. It was the middle of class on the day they found her, Sister Maria had been teaching the history of the protestant reformation when one of the other sisters rushed in and whispered in her ear. Sister Maria immediately paled and sat down as the one who spoke to her rushed out. Your teacher took a moment to visibly gather herself before she rose and addressed the class, telling you that Lilith had been found dead that morning. She went on to tell you that it had been an accident but somehow, you knew the truth. You’d attacked and bullied a girl until the point that she’d killed herself to escape it. You felt sick and promptly vomited on the floor of your class room before passing out. When you woke, you were in your dorm. You didn’t leave for the entire day, guilt and disgust eating you from the inside. You quit the choir the next day.

After that, your personality completely changed. Where you were once loud and confident, you were now soft-spoken and meek. You had once taken pride in your appearance, always being sure to look absolutely perfect, now you never tried. You spiraled into a depression and, at times, contemplated following in Lilith’s footsteps. Ultimately, you were too cowardly to do it and instead chose to live with your guilt.

After your conversation with Nero things were… strained between you and your son. While he didn’t know the full story, you could tell that the thought that you’d once had similar ideals to his bullies made him uncomfortable. You did your best to act normally, but you could tell that Venia was worried about you. She’d asked what had happened but you neatly avoided her questions by deflecting and changing the subject. After a few conversations of you constantly changing the subject, she eventually dropped the topic.

Nero had begun coming home later and later and the times he was home he seemed to be avoiding you. You asked some of the other children but they would just shrug and say that they had no idea what he was doing. You grew more and more worried, afraid that your conversation had permanently damaged your relationship with Nero until one day he came home just before sunset with a black eye.

You gasped and nearly shrieked as you rushed over to him. “What happened?!”

Your son kicked at the floor and as you grew closer you saw that he had a split lip as well. Glaring sullenly at the wall. “One of the older kids called you a whore…”

You froze. “What…?”

Nero looked at you, blue eyes still burning with rage. “One of the older kids called you a whore because you weren’t married to my dad when you had me.” He clinched his fists. “He was gonna say something else but I hit him before he could.”

You narrow your eyes at him, you had a feeling that the ‘older kid’ was older than Nero was indicating. “How much older, Nero?”

Your son had the decency to look sheepish as he muttered, “Sixteen…” and you sighed heavily.

“Nero–”

“I wasn’t going to let him talk about you like that!” He blurts out, interrupting you with a glare. “It’s bad enough that the other grown-ups do it, I’m not gonna let the other kids do it too!” You stare at him in shock. You hadn’t realized that Nero had heard some of the things said behind your back, though you should have realized that even though he was young, your son wasn’t stupid.

You purse your lips and retrieve a clean rag from the kitchen before wetting it and carefully dabbing at the cut on his lip. “I hope the other kid looks worse?”

Shocked blue eyes meet your amused gaze and after a moment, your son huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah he does.”

You grin cheekily. “Good.”

After that short exchange you and your son grew even closer. You didn’t try to stop him from fighting, he was too stubborn to listen to you and you knew that if you said anything he would start hiding it again. You also felt slightly touched that he was defending your honor in his own way. While you would worry when he would come home with a new scrape or bruise, you would patch him up as best you could without a word.

In an effort to give Nero an outlet other than the other children, you spoke to Quies, Venia’s husband, and managed to get Nero into beginner swordsmanship classes with the Order of the Sword. Your son was easily the youngest in the group, as most of the other boys were fourteen or older, but he excelled in the lessons and you slowly began to see a decline in his fights. While he was still quite hotheaded, Nero now had an outlet to channel his energy into.

You felt a slight pang of bitter sweetness as you watched your son grow. It was times like this that he reminded you of his father. Both were full of bullheaded determination, even if it was for different reasons. Every day, Nero looked more like his father and sometimes you wondered if the man would have done any different if he had known of your, ah, condition when you went your separate ways.

Chapter Text

The next few years passed quickly. The fall before Nero’s fourteenth birthday a hurricane hit Fortuna. While there wasn’t much damage from the heavy winds, the large amounts of rain softened the ground and caused several of the older buildings on the outskirts of the city to collapse.

The night it happened you woke to a pounding on the orphanage’s door. The worst of the storm had passed but it was still raining quite heavily. Frowning, you got out of bed and quickly threw on a robe over your sleeping clothes before making your way downstairs. As you approached the door the pounding seemed to become more urgent. You pulled open the door, slightly annoyed with whoever was calling, and gasped.

Standing there was Credo with an unconscious Kyrie in his arms, both soaked to the bone. You quickly ushered them inside, having Credo place his sister on your couch. You checked her over and were relieved to see that the only injuries she had were some scrapes and bruises and a rather nasty bump on the back of her head. You turn to Credo who stood in the middle of the room dripping on the floor. “Is she alright?” He croaked.

You sigh and hand him a towel. “She should be fine. She’ll have a rather nasty headache when she wakes up but that’s it.” You look at him seriously. “What happened, Credo?”

He runs his hand through his soaked hair and sits heavily in a nearby chair. “Th-The southern cliffs… Collapsed.”

You gasp in horror and clap your hands over your mouth. “No…”

He nods heavily. “Mother and father weren’t able to make it out.”

A strangled noise escapes you and you slowly sink to the floor. Your best friends, your only friends, were gone. A sob escapes you before you can keep it in. You may have lost your friends, but Credo and Kyrie had just lost their parents. You manage to force back your own grief temporarily, there would be time to mourn later, Credo was obviously in shock and Kyrie injured. You stand shakily and make your way over to the distraught male and gently pull him to his feet. When he looked at you in confusion you gestured to his sister. “I can’t carry her myself.”

He obligingly picks the young woman up and quietly follows you up the stairs. You open a door across from your own and have Credo place her on the bed while you get dry clothes for the both of them. He was still standing there when you returned and you hand him the pile before taking him to your other spare room. He looks at you in confusion. “What… What are you doing?”

You give him another gentle smile. “You and your sister will always have a home here Credo. Not only were they my best friends, but Nero and I most likely wouldn’t have survived if it wasn’t for your mother.” He gives you a weak smile in return and you sigh. “Get some rest, things will work out. You’ll see.”

Quietly closing the door, you return to Kyrie and strip her wet clothing before putting a dry shift on her and covering her with the blankets. It’s only once you are within the safety of your own room that you let go of your grief, sinking to the floor and letting out heart wrenching sobs. Though your words to Credo had been hopeful, you truly didn’t know what to do.

After the deaths of their parents, Credo and Kyrie moved in with you at the orphanage. Kyrie was instantly beloved by the children who were drawn to her by her kind nature. Credo began dedicating all of his time to the Order and was rarely seen, only occasionally returning to sleep.

Nero officially joined the Order of the Sword at the age of fifteen, two years earlier than his peers. Several had protested his early knighthood, but none could protest his skill and he was reluctantly accepted. Though you worried for him, you couldn’t deny your pride when he approached you after the knighting ceremony. Your smile was blinding as you embraced him, careful not to crease his crisp uniform.

Kyrie, however, had no such restraint. She bounded up to him and threw her arms around his neck, causing the white haired male to stagger. “Oh Nero, I knew you could do it! I’m so proud of you!”

You snickered at your son’s reddening face as he tried to figure out if he should hug her back or just stand there. He had settled for awkwardly patting her on the back when you finally came to his rescue. “Kyrie, I think you’re suffocating him sweetheart.” She let go of him like she’d been burned and blushed when you giggled. Credo was the next to approach. Having been recently promoted to elite knight, his uniform was more elaborate than Nero’s plain white and grey ensemble.

The young man clapped your son on the shoulder and gave him a rare smile. “Well done Nero, this suits you.” Credo turned to you, clasping his hands behind his back. “I requested that Nero be placed under my command for his first few years of service. I’ll do my best to keep him out of trouble.”

You ignore your son’s indignant shout and smile at him. “Thank you, Credo. We both know how much of a hothead he can be.” You share a chuckle at your son’s expense. Nero glares at the pair of you for a moment before he gets distracted by other well-wishers coming to congratulate him. The both of you watch him for a moment before you quietly speak up. “They’d be proud you know.” Credo stiffens beside you and you smile sadly up at the twenty-two-year-old. “I know that you feel responsible but it was an accident brought about by nature, there was nothing you could have done. You did the right thing when you saved your sister.” You gently take his hand, squeezing it slightly when he looks down at you. “Have dinner with us tonight, Kyrie misses you terribly and Nero will be ecstatic even if he doesn’t show it.” He hesitates before nodding and you beam at him before leading him to where Nero and Kyrie were waiting.

As you had predicted, Nero and Kyrie were both excited to learn that Credo would be having dinner at the orphanage. You and Kyrie cooked a huge dinner while Credo and your son entertained the children with some light sparring. It was all the boys could talk about when you sat down to eat and while the girls pretended to be disdainful, you could tell that they had been awed by the swordplay as well. The evening was filled with joy and laughter and you went to bed with a smile that night.

You were in the market when you heard about the attack. You had run out of bread and milk, much to your annoyance, so you had to go into town proper to get some. It had been a fairly good day. While the townsfolk still didn’t like you, they were much more tolerating since Nero joined the Order. You were on your way back to the orphanage when one of the younger Order members approached you. “Matron Y/N?”

“Yes?” You asked warily, slightly alarmed by his serious expression.

“Your son and Kyrie were attacked in the forest. By a demon.” You gasp and make to interrupt by he continues before you get the chance, raising his voice slightly. “Both are alive and safe. Kyrie is unharmed though Nero apparently dislocated his right arm while protecting her.

You let out a relieved breath. “Oh, thank God… Where are they now?”

“Both are at Fortuna Castle. The Order wishes to question them about the attack and Captain Credo wished to check on his sister himself.”

You nod. “Thank you for telling me. May the Savior watch over you.”

“And you.” He bows his head slightly and walks away. You stand there for a moment with a deep frown on your face before returning to the orphanage.

Kyrie is the first to return. She’s obviously shaken by the ordeal and you make her a cup of tea before telling her to go rest. She tries to protest, saying that she needed to help you with the children, but you ignore her and gently but firmly insist that she allow herself some time to recover. She reluctantly agrees and retires to her room as you busy yourself with dinner.

It’s after dark by the time Nero returns. Wordlessly, the seventeen-year-old walks up to you and wraps his arms around you before resting his chin on your head. You hug him tightly in return for a few minutes before gently pulling away to look him over. His right arm was tightly wrapped in bandages and a sling hung from his shoulder. You blink in confusion. “I was told that your arm was dislocated.”

Your son shifts uncomfortably before saying, “We, uh, might want to sit down for this. It’s a bit much to explain.” You frown but oblige him, quickly making a pot of tea and setting out cups for the both of you before sitting next to him at the dining room table and looking at him expectantly. He hesitantly began explaining how he and Kyrie had been visiting the cliffs where she and her parents had lived when they’d been attacked by a group of demons. He had just managed to fight them off when another, stronger, demon appeared and attacked Kyrie. At this your son paused and bit his lip, a nervous habit he had picked up from you as a child. “I-I was too far away to reach her, but I tried anyway. As I ran towards her, I reached out a-and my arm… It changed.” Nero unwrapped the bandages around his right arm and you gasped. The pale skin of his arm had been replaced with demonic scales of red, his fingers had become tipped in claws, and a faint blue glow seemed to emanate from the appendage. He curled his hand into a fist and continued his story. “When my arm changed, a glowing projection reached out from it and snatched up the demon before flinging it away from Kyrie and I was able to kill it before it recovered.”

You were silent for a long time after Nero finished speaking. You quietly sipped your tea, deep in thought. “Who else knows about your arm?” You ask quietly.

“Just Credo. He’s the captain of the knights, I couldn’t keep it from him.”

You look at him sharply. “Kyrie doesn’t know? Wasn’t she there?”

Your son shakes his head and blushes faintly. “She, ah, fainted.”

You giggle at his slightly embarrassed reaction for a moment before growing serious again. “Are you still a member of the knights then?”

Nero nods. “Yeah, I can fight with both hands so this doesn’t really make a difference. Credo also said that I’d be getting promoted to Elite Knight because I killed all those demons. It’s not happening right away because of my ‘injury’ but in the next couple of months.”

You smile gently at him. “That’s wonderful Nero. I’m proud of you, Darling.”

He gives you a weak smile in return. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do about… this.” He gestures at his arm and you inspect it again before coming to a rather simple conclusion.

“Use it.”

Nero stares at you blankly. “What?”

“Use it.” You repeat. “Who knows how powerful it could be. You could train, learn to control it.”

“Mom, do you even know what you’re saying?! I can’t just–” He stops at your raised eyebrow and has the decency to look slightly sheepish. “Sorry… Didn’t mean to shout.”

You smirk at him before speaking again. “It’s fine, you’re a teenager. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t shout at me sometimes.” You sigh and finish your tea before standing and going to wash the teapot out. “All I will say is that you should, at the very least, accustom yourself to the arm. You never know if you might need it one day.”

He stands and washes the teacups. “I’ll… think about it.” With that, he gathers the bandages that his arm had been wrapped in and makes his way upstairs. You silently watch him go before sighing to yourself. You stand in the kitchen for an unknown amount of time before coming to a decision.

You focus and a blade slowly materializes in your hand. It was a delicate thing, a rapier made of silver with a slender gold cross guard. You inspect the blade in your hand with a frown for a long moment. It had been over seventeen years since you’d last held it. You close your eyes and relax, allowing the sword to disperse. Be it intuition or instinct, you felt like something had changed. Fortuna was balanced on a knife’s edge, and you planned to be ready when it fell.

Chapter Text

You gently shushed the more rambunctious children as you and your group settled into the pews of the cathedral. It was the morning of the Festival of the Blade and most of your charges were more excited about the promise of games and festival food. Once they were all situated you took your own seat while adjusting your hood. You didn’t like wearing it but you wanted to set a good example for the children. Glancing at the empty seats next to you, you shake your head in exasperation. Nero was finally going to ask Kyrie to date him and in his nervousness had left the necklace he’d bought for her at home. As for Kyrie, she was standing off to the side of the cathedral adjusting the circlet on her head. She’d been chosen for this year’s Songstress and you couldn’t be more proud of the young woman.

Catching her eye, you waived and she shoots you a nervous smile in return and standing slightly taller. As the last few townsfolk trickle in you frown slightly and try to catch a glimpse of your son’s distinctive white hair but the chatter dies down and you’re forced to sit as Kyrie makes her way to the center of the ornate tile platform. She bows her head for a moment and as the sunlight begins streaming down from the glassed dome above she starts to sing. Her voice echoes through the hall beautifully and as the choir joins her she seems to grow in confidence.

The day she’d been chosen as Songstress Kyrie had rushed to you in a slight panic, bursting into the kitchen and speaking so quickly you could barely understand her. After you had gotten her to calm down and speak more clearly she explained her worries to you. She was worried about having such an important role in the festival and had been told by her mother that you used to sing. Interrupting her, you told Kyrie that you’d be glad to help her prepare to sing for the festival and she gave you a relived smile.

Smiling at the memory, you thought back to the weeks leading to the festival. Kyrie really hadn’t needed your help as she had an extraordinary amount of talent and her voice was beautiful. All you had done was teach her some breathing exercises and give her some tips on maintaining tone as she ran out of breath.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Nero sitting down heavily in the bench next to you and placing a small blue box on the open seat. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye and note his heavy breathing. “You’re late.” You mutter.

He sighs and adjusts his headphones. “Yeah, the demons didn’t seem to understand that I had a prior engagement.”

“You were attacked by demons?” You ask sharply.

Your son shrugs. “Don’t worry, I took care of it.”

“I know that. That’s not what I’m worried about! I’m more concerned with the fact–” You’re cut off by applause and feel a slight stab of guilt for not paying attention to Kyrie’s song. “We’ll talk about this later.”

He grunts and crosses his legs as Sanctus begins his sermon. You stifle a giggle at his nonchalance and note Credo’s disapproving stare. You bite back a sigh. Since the incident that changed Nero’s arm the man had become distant. While Credo was still polite to you, he never visited the orphanage anymore and even his sister had noticed his standoffishness.

Kyrie’s boots clicked quietly on the stone floor and while your gaze was on His Holiness, all of your attention was on the young pair beside you. The young woman smiled at your son who shifted and put on his headphones in an effort to hide his embarrassment and your stifled snort causes him to glare at you. Kyrie is slightly taken aback at the exchange but the moment she sees the box sitting innocently on her seat and Nero’s growing blush, she beams. She carefully picks the box up and sits down holding it close, and you see your son trying, and failing, to hide a dopey grin. You fight the urge to coo at them before returning your attention to the sermon.

Sanctus preaches for about thirty minutes as Nero gets increasingly antsy. It’s when Sanctus asks for the congregation to join him in prayer that your son finally stands up. Honestly, you’re kind of impressed that he lasted as long as he did and don’t say anything. Kyrie, however, looks up. “Nero? What’s wrong?”

“I’m outta here…” He mutters and steps past her into the isle.

“But… It’s not over yet.” Kyrie protests as he starts to walk away. She stands up to follow him as he mutters something about falling asleep.

You sigh, about to tell Kyrie to let him leave, when Nero stops with a confused sound. You inhale sharply when you see what has your son’s attention. His changed arm, something you had nicknamed the Devil Bringer, had started to glow with a blue light. You stood abruptly and began gathering the children as you instinctively looked up towards the pulpit where His Holiness still stood with his head bowed.

There was a loud crash as a figure dressed in red fell from the ornate skylight with a crash and landed in front of Sanctus. Everything seemed to freeze for a moment before the male reached back and gunfire echoed throughout the cathedral. All was quiet for a moment before the man turned around, revealing the blood spattered on his face and the screams started. The knights began drawing their swords and running towards the male as the townsfolk fled.

You quickly scooped up the smallest of your charges and grabbed the hand of another. You were thanking every deity you could imagine that the ten or so children you cared for had instinctively formed a chain with their hands and you shouted for them to “Not let go whatever you do!” Noticing the large crowd struggling to get through the main doors you quickly ducked into another passage and exited the church through a side gate. Once outside you froze. The streets had been swarmed by strange demons resembling patchwork dolls. Patchwork dolls that were eviscerating people.

You quickly duck back into the open doorway and look at the group of scared children trailing behind you and take a deep breath before crouching down to their level. “Okay everyone, we’re going to play a game.”

One of the seven year olds, Jeremiah, speaks up quietly. “Wh-What kind of game?”

“You know Hide and Seek, right?” All of them nod. “What we’re going to play is kind of like a cross between Hide and Seek and Tag but instead of just the seeker closing their eyes, we all do. Alright?”

They all nod and you go to stand up when, Sarah, the little girl you’ve been carrying taps your shoulder. “What about Nero and Kyrie?”

You smile and gently stroke her hair. “They’ll be fine. Nero is strong, He’ll keep Kyrie safe.” She nods and hides her face in your shoulder and you stand and take Jeremiah’s hand again. “Alright everyone. Close your eyes and don’t open them no matter what until I tell you too.” All the children nod and close their eyes tightly before gripping hands again. “Now stay close to each other and be as quiet as you can.” With that, you peer out the door before stepping out into the street again.

You slowly begin making your way through the side streets and alleys of Fortuna. Demons were everywhere, you could hear their cackling mixed with screams and the wet sound of blades meeting flesh all around you. The children were silent behind you but you could see them flinch at the sounds and several had tears running down their cheeks. Biting your lip, you continued making your way back to the orphanage. You had to back track several times because of demons or rubble from the collapsed buildings before finally reaching the edge of the city.

You’d been lucky so far, but it seemed that your luck had run out. There were about thirty demons between your group and the doors to the basement of the orphanage. You gently set Sarah down, making sure that she grabbed Jeremiah’s hand before turning to the oldest of your charges who was twelve. “Carson, honey. I need you to open your eyes.” He does so slowly and looks at you. “I’m going to cause a distraction. When I do I need you to lead everyone else into the safe room in the basement. Can you do that for me?”

He nods, trying to look brave and you gently kiss his forehead. “I know you can do it. Don’t open the door unless it’s me, Nero, or Kyrie. Alright?”

He nods again, more sure this time. “Okay.”

You breathe deeply and stand up, summoning your sword. You give Carson a small smile at his wondering gasp. “Count to fifty before you go, then move as quickly and quietly as you can.”

You don’t wait for his response before stepping around the corner. At first the demons don’t notice you but as you approach, one spots you. Its screech is cut short as you neatly bisect the creature, flicking the greenish liquid off of your blade with a sneer. All of the other demons stop and seem to look at you and you smirk. Time to see if you still had your touch.

Your figure blurred and three more demons fell, the seams of their patchwork bodies neatly severed. You danced among your enemies, your rapier flashing in the sunlight. Each of your strikes was perfectly timed and precise and you seemed to be able to sense when a demon was about to attack you. You flipped and rolled and even sometimes used the demons themselves as a stepping point to avoid the rusted blades swinging at you.

You turned and neatly threw your blade like a javelin at the demon that was trying to edge towards the children that had begun making their way towards safety. The demon squealed and burst when you made a pulling motion and your sword flew back into your hand. You pirouetted away from another strike and focused once more on the demons. About half were dead by now and you weren’t even breathing heavily. It seemed that the training you’d been doing since Nero was attacked had paid off.

You gave a feral grin and dove back into the fray. You hadn’t realized it, but you’d missed this. It’d been years since you’d been in a fight, you’d almost forgotten the thrill you got from it. You neatly dodge another attack as yet another demon fell you your blade and you felt a giggle bubbling up in your throat before you forced it down. No, now was not the time to lose yourself to the bloodlust. You had to remain focused.

After ‘waking up’, so to speak, you realized that you’d been dragging the fight on and you snap into focus, neatly disposing of the rest of the demons. You looked up and down the street, ensuring that you hadn’t missed anything, before letting your sword disperse. You quickly made your way into the basement of the orphanage and to the hidden door that lead into the safe room that Nero had built.

“Carson?” You murmured.

“Mama Y/N!” A muffled voice shouted and the door began to wiggle before you stopped him.

“No, don’t open the door. I’m going to go into the city.” You hear the sounds protest and continue. “There are a lot of people still out there. They’re scared and unlike us, they don’t have anywhere to go. I’m going to find them and bring them back here.”

It’s silent on the other side of the door and you sigh. “I promise that you’ll be safe. The only ones who know about this place are Nero, Kyrie, and me.”

“B-But what about you…?”

You smile gently, though the kids couldn’t see it. “You saw me fighting, right Carson? Even if I’m not as cool as Nero or Captain Credo I think I’ll be fine.”

There’s a quiet sniffle. “Yeah… Just… Promise you’ll come back?”

“I promise.”

Chapter Text

You stayed at the orphanage longer than you would have liked, but you felt more secure after checking the building and ensuring that the children could defend themselves as best they could. Peering out the door you inspected the empty street before warily stepping out and locking the door securely behind you. Your boots were silent on the cobbled streets. Thinking ahead, you’d changed out of the formal attire you had worn to the opening ceremony. Instead of the shapeless blue dress and hood that was common around Fortuna, you now wore a thigh length, slate gray tunic over brown frictionless leggings. Your feet were tucked into knee high black combat boots and a thick leather belt served as a waist cincher. You haphazardly pulled your hair away from your face and secured it with a tie as you strode up the street.

It had been nearly two decades since you wore this outfit, and though it stirred feelings of guilt and remorse it was the best you had for this task. Your rapier hung from an ornate sheath at your hip. Though it took energy to keep summoned, you figured that summoning it at will would frighten the townsfolk instead of reassure and the drain was minimal. Reaching the end of the street, you turned back for one last look at the orphanage before taking off at a dead sprint for the center of town.

You’d only been running for a few minutes when you come upon the first group of demons. Your stride doesn’t pause and your sword is a blur as you pass through the middle of them. They fall dead and you continue running. You don’t pause until you’re back at the cathedral and you take in the collapsed entryway and what little you can see of the broken fountain. You smirk, somehow instinctively knowing that it’s Nero’s handiwork.

You sigh and turn your back on the destruction. You knew that the Order would try to get as many civilians as they could back to headquarters but the chaos of the attack would have scattered many of the townspeople. Those who were separated would have looked for a shelter that could be easily defended but was also recognizable and nearby. Scanning the city’s horizon, you spotted a tall spire jutting out of a copper colored dome, the City Hall.

The dome was easily spotted from most of downtown and was several stories high, perfect for a lookout, and the building had a large storm cellar where those living on the cities edge could shelter during hurricanes. The building was only a few blocks away from the cathedral, which made it the perfect place for scared residents to hide. You quickly, and cautiously, begin making your way toward it.

You were moving at a fairly decent pace, no longer sprinting but moving quickly all the same, when you heard cackling coming from above you. Instinctively throwing yourself to the side, an orange and tan scarecrow landed where you’d just been as a delicate spider web of red formed in your path. Cursing under your breath, you turned to look at your opponent. At first, it seemed fairly similar to the other patchwork demons. However, this one had its blade replacing one of its legs and you could tell that it was far more agile than the others. Two more dropped from the buildings above and several of the first type appeared from around the corner.

You look around for a moment and sigh before drawing your blade. “Well come on then ugly, let’s dance.”

At your words the demon let out a cackle and spun like a top before leaping into the air and bringing its weapon down where you were standing. You quickly rolled forward and out of the way before spinning and brining your sword up to slash at its back. You were relying completely on agility for this fight, your blade was meant for deflection and fast strikes, against an opponent with heavy crushing blows like this, you had little to no defense. You kicked your leg out and hooked your foot around the peg supporting the demon and lifted slightly while pulling and the beast fell flat on its face. Your rapier plunged into its head and it screeched as it died. Looking to the next demon, you stepped through the shadows and appeared behind it before swiftly beheading it. You fought back a giggle at the memory of using that technique for the first time. The one you’d modeled it after had claimed that you’d “stolen” the idea from him as you vehemently argued that you’d made it up yourself. You actually had copied the ability from him, you just didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of knowing he was right. The man was insufferable when he was smug.

A blade came swinging at your head and you ducked with a startled exclamation. The third of the new demons had taken advantage of your momentary distraction and managed to close the distance between the two of you. It swung at you again and you grabbed the base of its leg before using the momentum of its swing to launch yourself into the air and away from it. Unfortunately, this also happened to place you in the middle of the group of lesser demons which promptly attacked you. The group was tightly packed which meant that they were hitting each other as they attacked you and several ended up killing one another. However, the closeness also made it difficult for you to dodge and you ended up with a few shallow nicks here and there.

Kicking at the nearest demon, you staggered out of the pileup as the last demon approached you. Slightly of kilter, you swung wildly at the demon and were lucky when your blade neatly sliced through the threads connecting the bladed leg to the rest of the demon’s body. The rusted metal clattered to the street and you promptly lunged, drawing your sword along the demon’s belly and splitting it open. It screeched and crumpled to dust as you breathed a small sigh of relief. You really were out of practice. Training for the past two years had brought the techniques back to your mind, but open combat was still rusty.

After the three elite demons were taken care of, it was a simple matter to clean up the rest. When the last demon fell and turned to dust, the barrier that had kept you caged in shattered and you breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Until you heard clapping.

You whipped around and froze when you spotted the source. The man in red, who had killed His Holiness, was casually sitting on top of one of the nearby buildings. He chuckled at your deer in the headlights expression. “Y’know… I was gonna jump down there and help ya out but you seemed to have it covered.” He pushed off from his seat and landed lightly in front of you with a smirk. Now that he was close to you, he towered over your smaller frame and you were frozen for an entirely different reason. The man in front of you had snow white hair that fell over bright blue eyes. Stubble grew on his chin, giving his aristocratic face a rugged appearance. He looked just like…

The male looked down at you in confusion as all the color drained from your face and you gaped at him. Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you finally managed to force out one trembling word. “V-Vergil…?”

Instantly, the man’s casual attitude evaporated and within seconds you were staring down the barrel of the pistol that had killed Sanctus not even two hours before. The white haired male’s tone was soft and deadly as he questioned you. “How do you know my brother?”

Blinking stupidly at him, all you could do was repeat his last word. “Brother?”

Relaxing slightly at your obvious confusion, the man lowered his gun but didn’t holster it. “I guess you don’t know then.”

“Know what?! Why the fuck do you look like Vergil when you’re so obviously not him?!”

He sighs and finally holsters his weapon. “We might want to sit down for this lady, it’s gonna take awhile.”

The man, whose name you learned was Dante, sat down with you on the curb and explained about how he and Vergil were the twin sons of Sparda, the demon who separated the human and demon worlds. He told you about how the Demon Lord Sparda had fallen in love with a human woman and sired twins. He then went on to tell you how their home was attacked and their mother was killed, resulting in the separation of the two and the birth of their apparent hatred for one another. After he was done explaining, you sat there in silence for a long while, processing.

Dante’s story, while outlandish, made since. It filled in some of the gaps in what you knew of Vergil’s history. When you had known the man, he’d never discussed his past. He’d occasionally made a few comments here and there, such as when you’d discovered his taste for poetry, but Vergil had always been frustratingly closed off.

The man beside you gave you a few more minutes to gather your thoughts before speaking again. “You never answered my question.”

You hesitate, considering playing dumb but realize that it’d be in poor taste. You sigh and look down at the bit of road between your feet, suddenly finding the cracks very interesting. “We were… intimate.”

Dante stiffens beside you. “What… like, you two were…?” He makes a vaguely sexual gesture that you see out of the corner of your eye and you nod silently. He sits back with a slightly stunned expression. “Well damn... I didn’t think the guy had it in him…” He muttered.

You both sit in silence as you wait for the other shoe to drop. Dante suddenly sits bolt upright next to you. ‘There it is…’ You can’t help but think.

“That kid… At the church.” He looks at you with wide eyes and yours close. You know who he’s talking about.

“Nero… My son.”

Dante sits there for a moment as your words sink in before falling backwards flat on his back. “Well shit.”

You smile bitterly. Your thoughts exactly.

Chapter Text

You’d met Virgil about two years after Lilith’s death. After the… incident, you’d slowly started distancing yourself from the townspeople of St. Edith. You quit the choir after graduation, having no interest in continuing to sing once you reached adulthood. This infuriated your father who’d believed that your voice was the only thing of worth you’d had and you left home shortly after, choosing to move into the Abbey in pursuit of a teaching career. Due to your youth and inexperience you weren't able to teach a class on your own, but you often shadowed one of the senior teachers and helped with her classes. Soon enough you were allowed to substitute whenever one of the Sisters had to be absent. After hours, you offered tutoring in the Abbey’s rather extensive library and that soon became your haven.

You would spend hours coming through the dusty tomes that hadn't been opened in what seemed like centuries and had become quite knowledgeable on the darker aspects of your town’s history. St. Edith Abbey had been built for one purpose, to serve as a seal for the naturally occurring hell gate that sat beneath the catacombs. 

The walls of the Abbey were built in a perfect circle with a gate of iron placed at each of the four cardinal directions. These gates served as the “locks” for the hell gate. As long as at least one of these gateways stood, the hell gate could not be opened. Eventually, the existence of the  hell gate was forgotten and the town of St. Edith grew around the Abbey. 

You’d discovered this in an ancient journal written by the Cardinal who’d originally performed the sealing by blessing the grounds and the gates of the Abbey after it had been built. The journal was written in Latin and in a light spidery hand that was almost impossible to read, much less translate, and you’d only succeeded in deciphering the first twenty or so pages, several of which mentioned the name “Sparda” and how he was the one to assist the Cardinal in the initial sealing. 

It was the height of summer when he showed up, a stranger dressed in blue with hair the color of freshly fallen snow. A stranger with an alarming interest in the town’s history and the journals that you’d become rather attached to. 

Dantes sits next to you in silence for several moments, apparently deep in thought. You couldn’t help comparing his features to those of your former lover. Vergil’s face seemed sharper than Dante’s. While Vergil was meticulously groomed, never allowing a single hair to fall out of place, Dante had allowed his hair to grow out slightly and fall about his face and a five o’clock shadow softened the sharp point of his chin. Other than that the two were identical, though you felt that the frown that often adorned the elder’s face seemed out of place on the younger.

Abruptly, Dante stands and stretches. You wince when his back cracks audibly and the man turns to you with a grin. “Well, it seems that this just became a family matter!”

You blink up at him owlishly. “Wha…?”

He laughs and reaches down to grab your hand before hauling you to your feet. “You obviously knew my brother pretty damn well. Probably better than I ever did.” You saw a flash of guilt briefly cross his face. “He trusted you enough to let you close, closer than he’s ever let anyone get. Hell, you even had his kid!” Dante gives you a serious look. “That makes you the closest thing to a sister I’m ever gonna get. You and that kid of yours, Nero, are family and even though I ‘ain't been around till now, y’all are stuck with me.”

You’re stunned. This… was not how you were expecting this conversation to go and you floundered for a moment before gathering your thoughts. “I… I really appreciate that Dante… Thank you.”

He grins and slaps you on the back, causing you to stumble forward. He tips an imaginary hat at you. “Anytime, M’lady.Though I do want the story of how you and my brother met once this is all over.”

You give him a small smile in return. “Of course.”

You both stood in silence for a moment before you turned to where you could just barely see the top of the city hall above the buildings. Dante scooped up his sword from where it was lying next to the curb and turned to you. “Well, I’d love to stay and chat but I’m on the clock and you seemed like you were moving with a purpose yourself.” 

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye and give him a cheeky grin. “You’re having dinner at the orphanage with us after this is all over. Don’t you dare be late or I’m coming after you.”

He barks out a laugh. “Yes Ma’am!” Before pushing off of the street with a powerful leap and bounding off over the buildings towards Fortuna Castle.

You stare after him for a brief moment before turning and continuing on your way to City Hall.

The streets were mostly quiet as you continued on your way. A few minor demons were scattered here and there but you dispatched them quickly and were soon climbing the steps to the City Hall. Before mounting the wide stone steps you peered upwards to see if you could spot anyone serving as a look out. Seeing nothing, you sighed and pushed open the heavy oaken doors.

The inside of City Hall was dimly lit by the glow of the rising sun. Motes of dust could be seen drifting through the air. Nothing moved. You slowly walked towards the grand staircase in the center of the hall, the soft taping of your boots echoing through the silence. The air seemed thicker here, as if the room was holding its breath. The sunlit dust ahead of you suddenly moved as if displaced by a breath of wind and you instinctively ducked forward into a roll, feeling rather than seeing or hearing the strike pass through where your neck had been just moments before.

A chuckle breaks the silence and a velvety voice is heard from above. “Well… That was certainly impressive. It seems like there might be a bit more to you than the other humans cowering beneath this building.”

You glance upwards and freeze. “...Fuck.” You mutter. Normally, you weren't one to curse but this seemed to be a rather apt moment for it. 

High in the rafters, lounging upon an enormous web of carefully woven threads, was Arachne. With the body of a spider and the head and torso of a beautiful woman, Arachne was ranked among some of the most powerful demons. Known as the “Queen of Spiders”, she had the ability to infuse any arachnid with demonic energy while retaining absolute control over them. Although she was relatively easy to defeat by herself, she could call upon thousands of spiders before imbuing them with her power all at once, creating an instant army.

“Language.” She drawled. Her movements were inhumanly graceful as she delicately stepped from her web to the wall before reaching the floor and beginning to circle you. Sunlight revealed delicate features, high arching brows and perfectly shaped lips. Eight black eyes peered at you and her long hair draped over her chest just barely covering her nudity. “Hmmm… You don’t seem to be anything special…” 

Sensing the coming blow, you dodged to the left as a heavily armored leg came crashing down where you were just standing. Watching the demoness guardedly, you kept your distance.

“Yet somehow, you’re able to avoid my attacks.” She leered at you, licking her lips, and you caught the barest flash of a fang. “Tell me Dear… How is that?”  

You shift your stance and draw your blade before dismissing the sheath. You could tell that there was no way for you to avoid the coming fight. “That… is none of your concern.”

Arachne throws her head back and cackles. “Oh ho ho…. You really think that you , a mere human , stand even the remotest chance against me ?!” She hisses as her eyes begin to tinge red and her mouth splits open to reveal fangs dripping with venom. Pinning you with a piercing glare, she flexes her claws. “If it’ssss death you wish for, then I ssssupposssse I’ll have to oblige you.”

You threw yourself to the right as the demoness suddenly launched herself at you. She was surprisingly nimble considering the bulk of her spider’s body and you knew that if you couldn’t limit her movements that it would be a very short fight. Quickly rolling to dodge another one of her attacks you slashed at one of her legs, hoping that your aim was true. A sudden shriek sounded and one of her second legs toppled to the floor, neatly severed at the joint. 

“You Whore!” She snarled and you sneered in return, channeling your inner Vergil.

“I think not, considering the fact that there is only one man I have ever lain with.” You smirk. “However, your reputation precedes you.”

Arachne blinks in confusion for a moment before recognizing the insult for what it was and snarls before spitting venom at you. You dodge it neatly and glance at the spot where it landed, noting the way the liquid immediately began eating through the floor.

“Projectile vomiting? How crass, at least try to have some class” You deadpan.

The demoness gives a wordless shriek at your calm insult and charges you, falling for the taunt. You leap forward into her charge and shove your rapier upwards, carving a deep gash in her abdomen. As you dance away, one of her back legs catches you across the stomach and launches you across the room. You crash into one of the pillars on the far side of the and gasp as the air leaves your lungs in a rush.

You cough, struggling to sit up and desperately gasp for breath as you try to get your bearings. In the center of the hall you see Arachne struggling to remain upright with her remaining legs. It seemed like your last attack had done a great deal of damage as copious amounts of disgusting yellow ichor coated the floor. Staggering, you hear her let out her loudest screech yet, causing you to wince and clap your hands over your ears.

“CHILDREN…! ATTEND MEEEE!!!”

Suddenly, you hear skittering as hundreds of spiders pour into the room. Many have already grown substantially in size due to the demonic energy infusing them and you’re forced to throw yourself to the side as a jumping spider the size of a large dog leaps at you from across the room. You swing your sword wildly as another spider slams into you from the side and it falls to the ground dead before two more take its place.

Time seemed to blur into a haze of dogding and slashing, interspersed with the occasional screech of a dying spider. You must have slain hundreds by this point but there were just as many in the hall as when you started and even more were pouring in. 

You gasped for breath and adjusted your grip on your sword. The handle had grown slick with spider guts and was getting difficult to hold. Yet another spider leapt at you and you swiped at it, missing your mark and only severing a couple of it’s legs rather than bisecting it as you had intended. Your movements had grown sloppy with exhaustion and you were struggling to remain on your feet. 

Arachne sneered at you from across the room. “And so, in the end, you fail. No matter how talented you may be with that little sword of your’s, you’re still just one human. My children are infinite! No matter how many you cut down, more will come. As your body begins to fail due to exhaustion my children feast on your blood and flesh and grow stronger!” The demoness smirks triumphantly. “You’re finished, little human.”

The spider’s had fallen back slightly during their mistress’ monologue and you used the slight reprieve to steady yourself. You drew yourself up to your full height and raised your chin defiantly. “That’s what you think.” With those words, you slammed the pommel of your rapier into your left hand and the unseen blade at the end bit deeply into your palm. The blade pulsed.

The room seemed to darken as your shadow lengthened and stretched. Claws formed on your shadow’s fingers and two great horns emerged from its forehead as two enormous and tattered wings spread from the back of your now pitch black shadow. Your outward appearance didn’t change to match that of your shadow’s. The only sign that anything had changed was the fact that your pupils had bled outward, and two voids stared at the startled demoness.

Arachne took a step back. “Wh-What is thi-?!” Her sentence was cut short as her head toppled to the ground, cleanly severed. Her body soon followed and you turned to gaze at it dispassionately. There was no sign that you had even moved, it was as if you had simply appeared behind her. 

Your shadow flexed its claws before piercing the shadow of a spider that had tried to sneak behind you. Wounds appeared on its body to mirror those upon its shadow and it fell dead beside you. It would seem that although Arachne was dead, her influence on the surrounding spiders had not faded. Your shadow ruffles it’s wings and points. You sigh. “You’re right. Let’s clean this up.”

You casually flick goo off of the end of your rapier and gaze around you with emotionless black eyes. The bodies of dead spiders littered the ground around you. You felt a tug on your sleeve and turned to look at your shadow who pointed to where the body of Arachne had once lain. 

In the demoness’ place was an ornate bracelet, the delicate chain woven in the shape of spiderwebs with poisonous green gems interspersed. The gems seemed to glow with an inner light. You walked over and picked it up. “Instead of perishing it seems she chose to continue on as an Arm.” You mutter.

You slip the bracelet on your left wrist and snap your fingers. Delicate threads appear at the tips of your fingers. You wiggle your fingers and the thread mirror the movements, writhing around like snakes. “Interesting.” You dismiss the threads and turn back to your shadow. “Thank you, you can go back to sleep now.”

Your shadow nods and pats your head before waving at you and returning to normal. Your eyes return to their ordinary e/c as the room seems to brighten abruptly, sunlight streaming in through the windows. You sigh. While that had taken less time than you’d thought, It had still delayed you quite a bit. You turned towards the stairs to the basement and took a step forward before promptly collapsing.

Chapter Text

Late afternoon sun streamed in through the library’s windows, gently illuminating the many rows of ancient tomes. Your low heels clicked quietly as you strode through the shelves, stopping occasionally to place one of the many books stacked in your arms back on it’s shelf. It was midsummer and you had been placed in charge of summer school for the year. It had been heavily implied that if the children under your instruction improved in their studies, you would be allowed to teach a class full time next school semester. You paused and replaced another tome. While remaining in the Abbey for another year wasn’t particularly appealing to you, you knew that having a year of experience at a prestigious school like St. Edith would almost guarantee you a teaching job anywhere you wanted. 

You sigh. Three years ago you would have never even thought of leaving St. Edith. Now, the thought of having to spend another year in the town made you want to scream. There was a loud groan as the heavy oaken door swung inwards and you made a note to oil the hinges again before you retired for the night. There was a quiet thud as the door swung shut and you continued putting the last of your books away. You figured that the other librarian had just left for the evening. The elderly woman you worked with had a family in the town proper and she retired to her home every evening.

You, on the other hand, lived in a small set of rooms above the Abbey’s library. When you left your father’s house you were offered the rooms on the condition that you served as the Abbey’s night librarian. The Abbey’s great library was open at all hours in an effort to encourage others to peruse the wealth of knowledge it contained though few people came in after dark. 

“Excuse me.”

You startled, dropping the heavy stack of books and whirling around in surprise. A young man stood at the end of the row, frowning at you slightly. “Oh! I'm so sorry! Give me just a moment to pick these up and then I can help you.”

You bend down to pick up the fallen books, taking it as a chance to calm your racing heart and study the stranger out of the corner of your eye. He was tall, standing head and shoulders above you. His clothes were worn, but elegant and dyed a brilliant shade of royal blue. A hooded brown cloak hid most of his features but you could just make out a sharp chin and pale skin. You stand, and make your way to the large front desk and set the books down on the corner before turning back to the man. “How can I help you?”

“I wish to learn about the history of this place. I am searching for information on an ancestor of mine and St. Edith was mentioned in various texts.” His voice was a deep flowing baritone and the vocalist in you wondered what it would sound like in verse.

“I see… Do you know the name of this ancestor? It would help me to narrow down-”

“No.” He interrupted, his voice cold. “Just point me to the history books specifically for this Abbey.”

“I…” You’re stopped by the tensing of his shoulders and you could tell that his patience was wearing thin. You sigh. “As you wish.”

You make your way to the card catalogue and begin pulling cards from various drawers. Returning to the desk, you pull out a sheet of loose leaf and begin copying down names and identification numbers. “This is a list of various books containing the history of the Abbey and town. Most are histories written decades after the events but there are a few journals included as well.” You hand the list to him and he glances at it as you pull out another sheet of paper. “The older books are written in Latin unfortunately, I’ll retrieve a translation guide-”

“There’s no need.”

“Pardon…?” You try not to let your annoyance at being interrupted again show.

“There’s no need for a guide, I can read Latin.”

You’re shocked. “You can read…” You trail off. “Very well… As I was saying, That list should start you off. It covers a wide range of dates and just about every person who had a hand in the founding of the Abbey and or town is mentioned at least once. If what you are looking for isn’t in those books, they should help to point you in the right direction of what you are looking for.” He nods, and you continue. “There are also several letters from that time that we keep here, however they are very old and delicate and are stored in a special room to prevent decay. Once you have an idea of the time your ancestor was here I can retrieve some of them for you to look at as well.”

“Thank you.” The words were so quiet, you could barely make them out. The man turned and set off through the shelves to retrieve the books you had listed for him.

You remain at the desk for a moment longer before quietly shaking your head and replacing the cards you had pulled from the catalogue. You closed the drawers before scooping up the books you still had yet to put away and set off through the shelves again. Passing one of the many tables set up for study, you noted the strange man sitting with several of the books you had recommended open in front of him and did a double take. 

He had draped his cloak and hood over the back of his chair, fully revealing his face to you. His features were fine and chiseled, with a straight nose and high cheekbones. A pair of piercing blue eyes studied the books in front of him intently and his pure white hair was carefully pushed back from his face. All in all, the man was devastatingly handsome. He looked up as if sensing your eyes on him and your gazes met. His gaze pinned you in place for a moment before you broke eye contact and scurried back to your desk blushing furiously.

You groan as you slowly regain consciousness. Shivering from the chill of the stone floor, you open your eyes and struggle into a sitting position. Glancing around, you note that midmorning sun is still streaming in from the eastern windows. You stand stiffly, exhausted and sore from your battle with arachne, and limp towards the cellar doors. Though you couldn’t have been out for very long, you knew that you had to hurry. Arachne had implied that the townsfolk who were hiding had already been found. 

Forcing your legs to move faster, you jogged down the steps and made your way towards the back of the dimly lit basement. You knew that there was an entrance to a storm shelter on the far end of the room. The shelter door was heavy and could be locked from the inside so you figured that was the most likely place for the villagers to go. You wove between long shelves and tall filing cabinets. The cellar of Fortuna’s city hall held the records of every family living within the city. The further back you went the older the records got. The Order was meticulous about keeping track of its citizens and you knew that there were files on you and Nero down here as well. When you became the head of the orphanage, you were recognized as a citizen after all. 

A scream suddenly pierced the gloom and you inwardly cursed before sprinting towards the sound. Rounding a corner, you see the source of the noise. One of the larger demons had found the entrance to the storm shelter and had buried it’s blade several inches into the door. It jerked and there was a harsh screech of metal on metal as it tried to wrench the door open to get at the terrified people within. 

Taking advantage of the fact that the demon’s back was to you, you leap forward and bury your rapier up to the hilt in its back. The demon squeals and immediately crumbles into dust. You run to the door. “Is everyone okay?”

A shaky voice answers you. “Y-Yes!”

You let out a relieved sigh, that had been close. “Alright. I’m going to need some of you to help me open the door. That demon messed up the frame on this side, you’re going to need to push!”

You hear an affirmative and begin tugging on the door from your side. There are a few muffled grunts from the other side and the door slowly opens with an agonizing screech. Once clear of the frame, the door swings open all at once and you’re sent stumbling backward. A several of the male townsfolk fall forward, landing in a heap, and you’re met with the gazes of about fifteen adults and half a dozen children of varying ages. 

“Matron Y/N…?” One of the townsfolk asked cautiously. You recognise her, having seen her in the market fairly often. 

“I know that I’m probably the last person all of you expected but there’s really no time to explain. Other demon’s probably heard what just happened and are going to come to investigate. We need to go. Now.”

The group cautiously begins to file out of the room. “Where are we going?” Another asks suspiciously.

“The orphanage. Nero and I built a safe room there after the attack a few years ago. My charges are already there.”

The adult’s exchange uneasy looks while a few of the children crowd around you. “Where are the knights of the Order?” One asks, looking near tears.

You shake your head. “I don’t know little one, I would hope that they are doing what I’m doing. Making sure that the rest of the city’s people are safe.”

“And why are you doing this?” One of the more elderly townsfolk speaks up. “Most of Fortuna has been rather unkind to you since you arrived here. Why would you risk your life to help people who wouldn’t give you a second thought?” 

His words were sharp and you had to force yourself to meet his gaze evenly. “Because it’s the right thing to do.” You state simply. You hold his gaze until he lowers his head, looking uncomfortable. “Any more questions?” You ask loudly.

There’s no response other than some quiet shuffling. 

“Let’s go then.”

It’s much more difficult to cross the city with a large group. Several times you have to duck into broken buildings to hide from wandering demons. If you had been alone, you would have simply killed them. However, you couldn’t risk the noise of a fight drawing more demons to you and the group of people following you. If you were discovered it would be a massacre.

Reaching down, you helped to pull one of the older townspeople over a large chunk of rubble. You had decided to cut through the courtyard of the church rather than try to make your way around it. The courtyard was silent and many of the people looked uneasy. Truthfully, you didn’t want to be there anymore than they did but it was either this or moving through the streets and risking running into demons.

When the orphanage is finally in sight you heave a great sigh of relief. Glancing back, you could tell that many of the adults shared your feelings. Some even gave you relieved smiles. You lead the way down the street and unlock the front door before ushering the group inside. You follow them in and lock the door behind you.

“Unfortunately, there’s not enough room for everyone inside the safe room. So for now, I’m going to take the children down.” Most of the adults nodded in agreement and you made your way past them to open the storage closet under the stairs. “There are cots and blankets under here, feel free to use them. I also have a decent amount of food stored in the pantry if anyone is hungry.” As you led the children to the basement, one of the men quietly moved towards the cupboard and began to pass out the blankets.

Knocking on the door to the safe room, you quietly murmur the password to the door hidden in the wall. After a moment it creaks open and a pair of scared brown eyes peer out at you. Seconds later you’re tackled by the group of orphans in your charge. After taking a moment to reassure them, and yourself to some extent, you gently usher them and the new children back into the hidden room. After hearing the lock click, you sigh and make your way back up the stairs.

By the time you’ve returned, most of the blankets have been passed out and the elderly townsfolk you rescued are resting on the spare cots you had indicated. After making sure they are settled you turn to make your way back out the door again. The man who was passing out the blankets stops you. “Matron? Where are you going?”

You sigh and turn back to the adults who are all now looking at you curiously. “I have to see if I can find more people. I was lucky to find so many of you hiding in a group but the longer I wait the more people could die to the demons out there.”

The man stares at you wordlessly for a long moment before nodding and stepping back. “Please… Be careful Matron.”

You nod and step out the door once more to search for more survivors.

The next hour or so passes by in a blur. You slaughter any demon you come across with ease and count yourself lucky that you haven’t run into any more greater demons like Arachne. With how exhausted you are, you don’t think you could handle another as powerful as her. 

You kill another demon and look around before sighing in frustration. You’d made your way to the market after leaving the orphanage again. You’d hoped that some people might have looked for shelter around here since it was a fair distance away from the church. Unfortunately all you found was demons, demons, and more demons.

You pause and sit heavily on one of the benches scattered about in an effort to catch your breath. It had been years since you fought like this and while the practice you’d taken up had refreshed your memory of techniques and such it didn’t really do much for your endurance. Hearing the clink of metal on stone, you tense and look up. However when you see the familiar color and shape of the Order’s armor you relax.

“Thank God…” You stand and begin to make your way over. “I’ve been wondering where the knights have been. I’ve already rescued a group of people and-”

You leap to the side as it suddenly thrusts it’s lance at you with devastating power and you gasp at the sight of the crater it left in the street. You shout, letting your surprise color your words. “Wh-What the Hell? What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!”

The knight doesn't respond and simply attacks you again, forcing you to move further into the street. You’re confused. Most of the Order knows you through Nero, while not all of them are particularly friendly to you, they’ve never been hostile to you before. You dodge another attack, refraining from returning the favor before calling out angrily. “Why are you attacking me? What do you want?!”

“S-s-s-s-simply s-s-s-some answers, my d-d-d-dear…”

You whirl around at the unexpected voice. The knight takes advantage of your distraction and strikes you with the side of it’s lance and flings you across the street, causing you to cry out in pain. As your vision fades, two more knights appear, flanking a vaguely familiar figure. “Wh-Who…?”

The figure bends over your prone form and you struggle to sit up before groaning in pain. There’s a sharp prick in the side of your neck and you gasp as your vision begins to go blurry. You whimper. “N-No…!”

“D-d-don’t w-worry, my dear… W-w-w-we won’t k-k-k-kill you. His Holiness has s-s-s-some q-q-q-q-questions he needs answered-d-d…”

You struggle weakly as one of the knights picks you up and flings you over its shoulder. The stranger picks up your rapier and seems to be inspecting it before you dismiss it and it turns to smoke in his hands. The last thing you see before blacking out is a calculating look that makes your blood run cold. “C-c-c-curious....”

Chapter Text

You sighed as you replaced yet another stack of books that had been briefly looked over then discarded. Vergil—you’d finally given in and demanded his name after growing sick of referring to him as “sir” or “you”—seemed to have no rhyme or reason to his ancestral research. The man had been staying at the abbey for some time now and you had long grown out of the small crush you’d had on him initially. By this point you were completely fed up with the male’s holier-than-thou attitude and curt, borderline rude, demeanor. You huffed, mumbling about egotistical jerks , and shoved another book onto the shelf. 

Hearing the heavy doors to the library open and shut, you idly note the fading shouts of laughter and joy knowing that your break from your asinine guest was just about over. Vergil seemed to avoid the library like the plague whenever students were present, meaning the parts of the day that were usually your most trying had quickly become your escape from the man. Not even your own quarters were safe! Just last night you’d been woken up at three in the morning by a certain white-haired individual pounding on your door and demanding your assistance.

Placing the last book in your hands onto the shelf, you stride out from between the rows of books and make your way to the cart waiting by the door to the archives. On the cart were several carefully stacked boxes containing the original letters and journals from before and during the construction of the abbey. Vergil had insisted on seeing the documents after you’d briefly mentioned having them. That had been a stressful night. 

Due to the delicate nature of the documents in question and the fact that Vergil was from outside the village, the man wasn’t allowed to handle the papers. Meaning , that you had to stand by to open each sealed box and gently remove the ancient parchment to spread out on the table. You also had to stop Vergil from overturning the table out of frustration several times. The man was downright pissy sometimes. 

You smirk, imagining Vergil’s reaction to being called that. You could only do so in your head of course due to the fact that you’d probably lose it if you ever said that out loud in the male’s presence. You begin pushing the heavy cart down into the abbey archives, pausing briefly to retrieve a heavy key ring from behind your desk. After walking about halfway down the dark hallway you reach a pair of elevator doors set into the wall. The elevator and the vault it connected to were relatively new additions to the abbey. They’d been installed when you were about ten years old due to the rapidly deteriorating state of some of the older journals. 

The vault was airtight and had been carved deep into the mountainside beneath the abbey. Due to its security it also contained the town’s treasures, several of which were older than the abbey itself. The elevator gave a quiet chime as the doors opened smoothly and you quickly wheeled the cart inside. Quickly rifling through the keys you select one and insert it into the lock that replaced the number pads you usually saw in elevators. Giving the key a quick turn, you sigh as the doors shut and you begin descending. 

You glance at your watch and note that it’s now after six. Vergil is sure to be in the library by now. The elevator chimes again and comes to a stop as the doors open to reveal a darkened room. You back the cart out of the elevator and fan yourself lightly. It’s always warmer down here than in the rest of the abbey, you’re not sure why. 

The cart’s wheels squeaked quietly as you strode past the various display cases and cabinets. Pausing next to an open case you glance down at the serial number before looking for the corresponding container and slotting it into place. You close the lid and carefully lock it in place, listening for the faint hiss as the compartment pressurized. 

You continued on like this for a time, carefully replacing each of the small containers on your cart and making sure that each one was sealed properly. 

After replacing and sealing the last of the documents, you sigh and glance at your watch again. Seven thirty, you’d been absent from the library for nearly two hours. Vergil was sure to be furious, especially since there would be no chance of him finding you down here. You smirked and considered the thought of waiting even longer to return, but knew that you’d eventually have to face the man and his temper. You turned and began pushing the cart back towards the elevator, idly glancing at the various artifacts in glass cases. 

The objects within the vault were rather eclectic in nature. Some cases contained various holy items that were used in the construction and blessing of the abbey, others contained seemingly random—and in some instances, bizzare—items that were considered “precious” by the town council. For example, one case held the crucifix used by the Cardinal in the consecration of the abbey’s grounds. Right next to it was a case containing a twisted and filthy cutting of a tree root. The plaque in front of the case claimed that it had been used in a dark ritual and was thus cursed, but you had a difficult time believing that. It just seemed like an old piece of wood to you. 

You passed by the rest of the cases, occasionally rolling your eyes at the descriptions. One case claimed to hold the heart of a demon. It was a rock. Yes, there were a few streaks of reddish brown on it, but you knew that it was because of the high iron content in the stone. There were thousands of rocks exactly like it on the ground outside.

Reaching the elevator, you pushed the cart into its designated place and pressed the button. The doors smoothly opened and you entered the elevator once more. Again you inserted the key and turned it, groaning as the doors slid shut and the elevator started rising. You could already feel a headache forming due to the coming confrontation. 

The elevator chimed softly and you exited, walking deliberately slowly down the hall towards the main library. You didn’t immediately see Vergil, but you knew the man was in the room somewhere. You replace the keys on the hook beneath the desk and begin filling out the log, stating that all the documents that had been removed from the vault had been properly replaced. 

“Where were you?”

You resist the urge to slam your head on the desk and look up to meet the furious blue eyes of Vergil. “I was doing my job.” You stated bluntly. 

He sneered. “Your job is to assist me, girl.”

You ignore him and finish logging the documents you’d returned, forcing down your rising anger. You neatly sign your name at the base of the page and close the large book before putting it away. You begin tidying up the desk in preparation to leave for the night. Something in Vergil seems to snap at your casual disregard of the man and he slams his fist on the desk, startling you and causing you to flinch violently at the loud noise. 

“Listen to me when I speak to you, woman!” 

You don’t know what it was, perhaps it was him shouting at you, or his refusal to use your name—you knew he knew it, not only had you told him yourself, but students would come looking for you at all hours of the night, needing help with their assignments—or perhaps you’d finally become fed up with the way he’d treated you but suddenly, you were done. 

You snatch up your bag and storm around the large desk, marching up to Vergil. You glare furiously up at his face, uncaring about the difference in height, and cut loose. 

“Listen here you pompous prick!” Weeks of pent up frustration were present in your tone. “I am sick of you treating me like your personal doormat! Ever since you got here you’ve done nothing but gripe and complain while ordering me around! You refuse to use my name and act like I don’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone be in your presence. Yet you still come to me, demanding that I drop everything and bend over backwards to help you and your shitty attitude! I have duties that don’t involve you! I don’t have time to just sit around and wait for you to need my help! Newsflash jackass, the world doesn’t. Revolve. Around. You.” You jab him in the chest with each word. “So I’m not—”

He grabs your wrist tightly as you go to poke him again. “Don’t touch me, woman.” He growls furiously, while glaring down at you. “I don’t care if you—”

Smack

For the first time since you’d met him, Vergil seems genuinely shocked. You can already see red blossoming on his pale cheek where you slapped him. Your palm stings and you wrench your other arm out of his grip with a snarl. “My name... is Y/N. Learn to fucking use it. ” With that you turn and stomp out of the library, leaving the stunned man behind you as the door slams shut. 

It feels like you've been hit by a truck when you wake. Your arms are suspended above your head with a pair of chained manacles and you can hear the quiet hum of machinery. Opening your eyes, you take in your surroundings. The room you were in was dark, cables and bundles of wires crisscrossed the floor haphazardly connecting various consoles. A strange rootlike growth was emerging from the floor and stretched up the wall and out of a large hole. You shift your body and groan as your shoulders protest. There’s no way for you to tell how much time has passed while you were unconscious and while the room does have a sort of window, you have no idea which direction it faces.

You tug on your bonds and are disappointed to find that despite their age the chains seem quite secure. However, Arachne’s bracelet is still wrapped around your wrist. You suppose that whoever took you mistook the Devil Arm for a simple piece of jewelry. Reassured slightly by the knowledge that you’re not completely defenseless despite your confines, you begin trying to think of ways to escape.

After a moment, you begin to hear a strange buzzing that gradually grows louder and a giant beetle flies in through the open archway. 

You gasp and sit up, exhaustion forgotten, when you recognize the clothing of the person the obviously demonic bug is carrying. “ Kyrie !”

The demon idly glances over at your outcry but doesn’t hesitate as it flies up to a circular platform hanging from the ceiling. After placing Kyrie onto the platform, there’s a flash of red light and the songstress is suspended in a shimmering cage. The beetle descends and slowly shifts into the form of a bespeckled man in a lab coat once he touches the ground. After quickly hurrying over to one of the consoles and picking up a clipboard, he ruffles through the pages and finally turns his attention to you.

“S-s-s-so t-tell me M-m-matron Y/N… H-how is it-t-t-t that-t your s-s-son wields demonic p-power?”

You frown and stare at the strange man in confusion to hide your worry. “What do you mean by demonic power? Did something happen to Nero?” Internally, your thoughts were racing. What had happened that had caused Nero to reveal his abilities? Was he hurt? Why had this man taken Kyrie? What was going on?

He storms up to you and shoves the end of his clipboard in your face, spittle flying with the force of his shout. “D-d-don’t play dumb, w-w-woman! Th-th-that k-k-k-kind of p-power isn’t g-gained through a devil arm or a demonic p-p-p-p-pact! One has t-t-to b-b born with that-t-t kind of power! What-t-t do you know?!”

Attempting to stall, you counter his questions with one of your own. “Who are you?”

The man sneers but humors your question. “I a-a-am Angelo Agnus, alchemist-t-t and the Order’s ch-ch-chief of t-t-technologic-c-cal r-research. Now answer m-m-my quest-t-tion!”

You refuse to tell him anything about your son. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“YES YOU DO!” Agnus roars and flings the clipboard at you, striking you in the face. In his anger, he shifts back into his demon form and pulls out a strange looking sword which he slams into the ground next to you. “T-t-t-tell me what-t-t-t you know! NOW!”

You glare up at him stubbornly. “No.”

He rears back to strike you with the sword, but pauses at a loud grinding sound and a door appears in the wall. A familiar white-haired figure walks through it and you sigh in relief. “Nero.”

Your son does a double take. “Mom?” He eyes your battered form before turning a furious glare on Agnus, who had flown up to Kyrie’s cage when Nero entered the room.

“You bastard! First you kidnapped Kyrie, but then you went and took my mom too! What the fuck do you want with me?!” Nero shouts.

“Language.” You say dryly and Nero gives you a flat look.

“Seriously?”

You shrug. “I’m still your mom.”

“You curse just as much as I do!”

“Semantics.”

Nero shakes his head and refocuses on Kyrie and Agnus. You’re obviously fine if you’re bantering with him. “What have you done to Kyrie?!” 

The bug-man sneers—you’re not sure how he does it, but you’re impressed—and flies in front of the cage. “Why don’t you check and find out? But don’t expect me to be as easy on you as I was last time…”

Nero glances at you briefly before snarling and flexing the Devil Bringer. “If I have to kill you to save Kyrie, then let’s roll!”

Agnus charges with a shout and Nero quickly deflects the huge sword using the Red Queen. The beetle slams into the ground and your son quickly leaps away from the following slash before countering with a combo of his own. 

The next few minutes seem to stretch on forever as you watch your son battle furiously with the demonic scientist. You cringe every time Nero gets hit. You know he can take it, but you never wanted your son to be in this kind of situation. That was your whole reason for coming to Fortuna of all places.

As the fight drags on, you find yourself slightly thankful for the manacles suspending your arms. If you hadn’t been restrained, your nails would have been bitten down to the quick. Agnus summons more swords and sends them shooting towards Nero and you’re momentarily dumbfounded when, after your son doges them, they sprout wings and fly after him. Nero’s obviously seen this before because he calmly deflects them before using the Bringer to yank himself towards Agnus and bring the Red Queen down in a crushing blow. Agnus seems to expect this and catches Nero’s sword on his own, before bringing his fist around in a devastating punch to your son’s jaw. 

Nero is flung across the room and lands with a pained grunt. He staggers to his feet and drags the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping blood away from his freshly split lip. “Alright jackass… Let’s see how you handle this!” The Devil Bringer begins to glow and power suddenly erupts from your son. 

Your jaw drops. Nero’s eyes are glowing the same demonic blue as his arm and the outline of a huge demon looms over his figure. You don’t pay attention to any of this though. Your eyes are locked on the katana now clutched in your son’s hand. “Yamato...?” You whisper, completely stunned. The blade seems to pulse in recognition of your voice and Nero glances at it in confusion before shrugging it off and charging back into the fight. 

After activating his trigger, the battle was completely one sided, Nero landed blow after blow on Agnus and the beetle demon didn’t seem to be able to stop him. While Nero lacked the finesse usually required to wield a blade like Yamato, there was no questioning the power of the legendary sword. You were just struggling to wrap your head around the fact that the blade was in Fortuna. You avoided thoughts on what that must mean for it’s owner. Nope, not going there.

Nero gets a particularly nasty hit in with Yamato and combined with the strength from the Devil Bringer he flings Agnus across the room, who shrieks. “Damn you. DAMN YOU! I will kill you. I will kill you !”

Nero struts forward cockily, allowing his trigger to fade, Yamato dissipating. “Is that all you got? I think it’s time to put you out of your misery.” 

Agnus screeches and goes to charge at Nero again but is stopped by several of the Order’s armor suits charging in instead. Your son is obviously caught off guard by the sudden attack and struggles to defend himself as you watch a larger suit approach Agnus, who bows. “Your Holiness.”

What?

Your eyes widen when the armor replies with Sanctus’s voice. “That’s enough Agnus. Go and prepare for activation.”

“Right away.” The beetle-man bows again and flies out of the gap in the wall.

Sanctus turns to look down at Nero for a moment before glancing at you. “Your son is truly impressive Matron, you should be proud of the boy.” He then turns his attention to Kyrie. He lifts her from her prison and begins to exit but pauses at a shout from Nero.

Your son had noticed Sanctus retrieving Kyrie and had flung the knights away before making a mad dash to where the priest hovered. “Let her go! Kyrie!” 

Nero leapt into the air, reaching desperately for the brunet, but missed as His Holiness simply flew higher and out of the teenager’s reach. One of the remaining knights slammed him into the ground as Sanctus watched. “You have indeed inherited Sparda’s power… It makes me wonder what your mother must have done for this to be so.” Sanctus looks at you again and you glare back with a defiant snarl. 

The priest turns and flies away as two more knights pin your son down, who explodes in rage and flings the demons into nearby pillars. Nero staggers towards the exit Sanctus had taken but stops at the sight of the rootlike growths. He falls to his knees and punches the ground with a scream, cracking the stone and damaging the roots beneath. The growth slowly turns white and crumbles away, and you can feel your heart breaking at the sound of your son’s pain.

Seeing one of the suits of armor—now empty—lying nearby, you activate Arachne’s Band. Delicate threads stretch from your fingertips and attach to various points on the armor. Manipulating the strings with your fingers, you direct your puppet to stand and make its way over to you. You know that you can’t manage a task as delicate as unlocking the manacles via this form of control so you simply use the javelin to break the chain holding your arms above your head. The chains rattle as your arms drop and you let out a relieved groan at the release of pressure on your shoulders. 

You deactivate the devil arm and the suit of armor clatters to the ground again as you make your way over to Nero, who is still kneeling in the center of the room. Wordlessly, you embrace him and he clings to you desperately. He sobs into your shoulder as you gently stroke his hair the same way you did when he was small and desperately wish that there was more you could do. 

After a few minutes, he leans back and you discreetly look away as your son rubs his eyes with his sleeve. He looks at you and the broken chains in confusion and you answer his wordless question by rattling the bracelet on your arm and shrugging. “I got a new toy.”

Nero sniffs again and begins inspecting the manacles on your arm. “I don’t know what to do now…” He mumbles before smacking the rusty hinges with the butt of Blue Rose. The cuffs break apart and he tosses the pieces away.

You massage your wrists in an effort to get feeling back in your hands. “Go after her.” You state simply.

Nero looks at you incredulously. “Kyrie was taken by His Holiness Mom! If I did that I’d be going against the Order directly!”

You smile gently at him. “And since when have you ever let something like that stop you, hmmm?”

Your son stares at you for a moment before blinking and having the decency to look sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Heh. You’re right about that.”

“Of course I am, I’m your mother.” You grin cheekily.

Nero snorts and stands up, hauling you to your feet as well and looks at your wrist curiously. “So what is that, exactly?”

“You know what a devil arm is, right?”

“Yeah…” He said slowly.

“This is Arachne’s Band.”

He stares at you. “Arachne… As in the spider queen?”

You smirk. “Yup.”

“How the fuck did you manage that?!”

“What? Didn’t realize your mom was a badass?” You smugly strut past him towards the door. 

Nero stares after you for a moment before shaking his head and hurrying to catch up. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

You frown, thinking about the sword now in your son’s possession. “Yeah… We do.”

You end up trailing after Nero due to the fact that this was the first time you were ever in the Order’s headquarters. Ironically, your time spent unconscious and in captivity had restored a bit of your energy and you were easily able to keep up with your son’s fast pace. You chose to ignore the considering looks Nero kept shooting you. He wasn’t stupid, normal humans wouldn’t be able to maintain the speed the two of you were traveling at for very long. You knew that you’d have some explaining to do after this.

Pausing at an intersection, Nero points down the hallway to the right. “The door at the end of this hall leads to a side exit with a passage to the edge of the city.” He looks down at you, and you’re momentarily stunned at how much he looks like his father. Somehow, he’d grown up without you realizing it. “I’ve got a bad feeling about what’s going to happen, and I’d feel a lot better if you went home to keep an eye on things.” 

You frown. He was right, but you still didn’t like leaving your son on his own in this mess. “Please be careful Nero.”

He hugs you tightly and you’re slightly surprised, Nero didn’t usually go for this sort of affection, but you push your surprise aside and hold him just as tightly. “I will Mom. I promise.” He lets you go and turns to sprint down the left hall.

You watch him go for a moment before making your way down the opposite hallway. Nero was right. Everything that had happened today was leading up to something and you had a terrible feeling about what was to come. After leaving the Order’s headquarters, you were heading straight to the orphanage. You briefly entertained the thought of looking for more survivors, but decided that it would probably be best if you head back for now. If you found someone on the way, great, but your ultimate goal was to protect the people you’d already rescued. Sanctus had sent Agnus to prepare for activation. Activation of what , exactly? You’re not sure if you wanted to know.

Chapter Text

You’re still seething when you make it to your rooms and you slam the door before flinging yourself onto your couch. Indulging yourself, you scream into the cushions for a moment before sitting up to inspect your wrist. A faint ring of bruises was already apparent and you knew that they’d grow darker over the next few hours. You sigh, that will have to be covered in order to stave off questions. You’d rather people ask you how you sprained your wrist instead of why there was a hand shaped bruise around it. You stand up and kick off your shoes before making your way into your kitchen to make yourself some dinner. 

After a quick meal you take a shower and finally allow yourself to start to relax. Maybe your rant had gotten through to Vergil? You scoff as you wrap a towel around yourself. As if. You begin viciously rubbing your hair dry, once again in a foul mood. 

You’d been in your rooms for a few hours when you heard the quiet knock on your door. You frown and set aside the old journal you were still reading. You’d been taking advantage of the small amount of free time you’d suddenly gained and had made a good deal of progress with the translation. You make your way over to the door, open it slightly, and scowl. “What do you want?”

Vergil was standing in the hall, looking rather uncomfortable. “May I come in?”

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow. “ You being polite? It seems miracles really do happen.”

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Humor me, please.”

You roll your eyes but step back and hold the door open. Vergil steps inside and you try not to feel self conscious as his eyes glance around your tiny apartment. The rooms were clean but cluttered with books and various knick knacks scattered about. A colorful woven rug covered the bare stone floor and a heavy wooden sofa with worn cushions was pushed against the wall. A coffee table with large books replacing its missing leg was situated in front of it. Bookshelves lined the rest of the walls and a pair of mismatched chairs were placed around the beaten up dining table in your kitchen. The door to your bedroom was set into the wall opposite the eating area. All of your furniture had been salvaged from old classrooms or storage. It wasn’t fancy, but it was your home. 

Crossing your arms, you glare at the male. “Spit it out. Why. Are. You. Here?”

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. “I came too… apologize.” 

You blink in surprise. “Huh?”

Vergil grimaces. “I am unused to needing assistance and that coupled with my frustrating lack of progress has made me… irritable. You’ve simply been the one I have interacted with most and thus been the one receiving most of my ire.” 

Silence stretches between the two of you for a long moment before you sigh and walk to your kitchen and pull out a teapot. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

He looks at you in confusion. “Pardon?”

“I’m making tea, would you like a cup?”

“...Please.” He hesitates before accepting your proverbial olive branch. 

You wave a hand towards your sofa before turning to fill the kettle. “Take a seat. I have jasmine, oolong, orange blossom, and apple tea. Any particular preference?” 

“Oolong, if you don’t mind.” Vergil watches you for a moment as you move about, preparing the pot and carefully measuring the leaves out, before making his way to the couch and sitting. “Do you drink tea often?”

You lean against the counter and look at him while waiting for the kettle to boil. “Fairly often. I prefer tea since I find coffee too bitter for my taste. I’ll drink it if it’s the only thing available but if I’m given the choice I’ll pick tea.” The kettle starts to whistle and you take it off the heat before it gets too loud. You carefully pour the hot water into the teapot and set it on a tray with two cups and saucers. “Cream or sugar?”

“Lemon, if you have any.”

You hide your smirk and carefully slice some lemon wedges, placing them in a bowl on the tray. Why am I not surprised?

Checking the color of the tea you deem it steeped enough and remove the leaf strainer, setting it aside to be cleaned. You carefully pick up the heavy tray and carry it to your rickety coffee table and place down it gently. You pour two cups and pick up your own before settling yourself on the end of the sofa opposite Vergil. He picks up his own and squeezes the juice from a couple of the lemon wedges into it before leaning back. You quietly sip your tea and eye each other for a few moments and you briefly wonder if he found the situation as strange as you did.

The silence stretches on awkwardly for a few minutes before you clear your throat. “If we’re apologizing tonight, I suppose I should as well. I shouldn’t have slapped you.”

Vergil snorts at that. “No, I deserved it. If anything, it at least made me realize that I wouldn’t get anywhere in my search by antagonizing you. Especially since you seem to be the only person native to this town willing to speak with me.”

You sigh and lean forward to place your empty cup back on the tray. “I’m not surprised to hear that.” As you lean back, you’re stopped by Vergil gently gripping your arm and inspecting the bruising on your wrist. The faint splotches from earlier had darkened significantly and you now had a dark purple ring around your arm that perfectly matched the long fingers of Vergil’s hand.

The focused look on his face deepens into a scowl and he looks up at you as you watch him wordlessly. “I did this?” You don’t dignify the question with a response, he obviously already knew the answer. “I… am truly sorry. I should not have lost my temper.”

“It’s as much my fault as it was yours. I was goading you.” You shrug.

“I still should have had more control.”

You quietly pull your arm back and he releases it without protest. There’s another period of silence, during which Vergil is obviously brooding, and you wrack your brain for something to distract him with. Your eyes fall on the journal sitting innocently on the table next to the tea set. You lean forward and pick it up before handing it to him. “Here.”

He looks at it in confusion but takes it anyway.

“It’s the personal journal of the Cardinal who consecrated the grounds of the abbey. I didn’t include it in the titles I gave you because, since it’s a personal account, it doesn’t have any real information on the ceremonies and rituals that were used to bless the grounds. However, it does briefly mention a name that was left out of the main texts and alludes to the fact that this person had a far greater role in the process than one would expect.” He stares at you as you continue explaining. “The handwriting is atrocious and the entire journal is written in Old Latin. I found it about a week before you showed up and have been working on translating it.”

He frowns down at the book again before looking back at you. “So why are you giving it to me now?”

You blush and look away sheepishly. “I’d originally planned to give it to you when I realized that it was from the time period you were interested in, but by that point you had been such a jerk that I’d begun to hold onto it out of spite.”

It’s Vergil’s turn to look uncomfortable. “I see.”

“B-but I managed to get a good bit of it translated while I had it!” You hurriedly stand up and rummage through one of the nearby bookshelves, pulling out a notebook. You rush back and hand it to Vergil as well. “Here. Since I’m giving you the book, I suppose I should give you this also.” 

He takes it and looks at you thoughtfully. “Thank you.”

You shift awkwardly, embarrassed by your petty behavior and look around the room for something to busy yourself with. You scoop up the teapot and scurry into the kitchen. “I-I’ll make another pot of tea.”

The white-haired man doesn’t respond, already completely focused on your notes and translations, quietly reading and occasionally comparing a word or two to the original journal. 

You watch him for a moment before shaking your head and resuming your task. The water you’d boiled previously is still hot so you simply exchange the old tea leaves for fresh and let them steep. Once the liquid has darkened to the correct color, you remove the leaves and carry the pot back, wordlessly refilling Vergil’s cup and then your own. He takes the cup without looking up and you set the teapot down before picking a book from your shelf at random. 

Settling back down on your end of the sofa, you take a sip of your tea and glance at the book you’d grabbed, an Emily Dickinson collection. You hum. Dickinson, while not your favorite, was fairly enjoyable and would pass the time while still being fairly light. 

Everything is quiet for quite some time, the silence only broken by the rustling of pages turning. Occasionally you’d glance at your unexpected companion wondering if you were in some sort of surreal dream state. This was not how you’d expected your evening to go. 

It takes Vergil maybe an hour to finish reading your translation of the journal and the notes you’d written in response. As you’d slowly read the little book, you’d written down theories about the content and notes about the consecration process as it seemed far more complicated than normal. 

Vergil sighed as he closed your notebook. Your notes and theories were very well thought out. However, your skepticism towards several subjects were prevalent. It seemed as if he would need to explain some things to you. 

He cleared his throat quietly to gain your attention and you look up from your book. “You finished it then?”

“Yes. At least the sections you’d transcribed, that is.”

“And?”

“You were right, this is exactly what I was looking for. Unfortunately, according to this journal it seems I’m going to require further assistance from you.”

You frown. “How so?”

His gaze pins you in place as he looks at you seriously. “What do you know about demons?”

It didn’t take you long to reach the end of the hallway. It did however take you a moment to force the door open. The hinges had corroded due to exposure to the damp sea air and it took several minutes of cursing and shoving at the door to get it to move. When it finally swung open with a tortured screech of metal you were puffing from the strain. You leaned against the wall for a moment to catch your breath before taking off at a sprint towards the town. 

As you run into the square you see several people milling around, inspecting the damage done to the city by the demons. You grab the arm of a man at random. “What’s going on? Why is everyone outside?”

He looks at you with disdain, and you recognize him as one of the city’s council members. One who was very vocal about his dislike for you and your son. “The Order just announced that the demons had finally been cleared from the city and that it was safe to go out.” He looks you up and down. “And what are you wearing? I’d finally started to believe that you were somewhat respectable due to the successes of your son but now I’m starting to revise that opinion.”

It’s only because you’ve lived in Fortuna for years that you’re able to shrug off his snide comment with the ease that you do. “With all due respect, I don’t think this is over. Everyone needs to go back inside until we can be sure it’s safe!” You raise your voice so that the entire square can hear you. 

Most of the people mutter dubiously and look at one another before ignoring you. However, when a few people seem to take your words to heart and start making their way back into the buildings, you feel a small amount of relief. You start pushing your way through the crowd, heading for the far side of the plaza when the ground begins to shake.

“What the hell…?” You mutter. You look around in confusion as people begin to point behind you. Turning, you see the massive black monolith that was Fortuna’s Hellgate begin to warp and distend. Your eyes widen in horror as the gate explodes in a flash of light and thousands of demons begin to pour out. “ RUN! ” You scream. This time the people listen and the plaza erupts with panic.

It’s utter chaos as the people around you scream and desperately try to run for cover. You do what you can to defend their retreat, slaying demon after demon, but there are far too many  and you can clearly hear the sounds of people around you dying. Suddenly, one of the Order’s demonic suits of armor appears and destroys one of the demons about to impale a nearby woman. You take advantage of the small unexpected break to catch your breath and glance around.

The demonic suits of armor have appeared by the hundreds and are slaying demons left and right as the townspeople flee. As unsure of what was happening as you were, you were nevertheless thankful for the help in protecting the people. You fend off a few more demons before seeing a strange shape on the horizon and freezing. What. The. Fuck.

Flying in from the direction of the Order’s headquarters was an enormous statue made of white stone. There are several dark blue gems embedded in its arms, legs, head, and chest and a pair of huge golden horns extended from its head. Two large glowing rings stretched behind it mimicking the form of wings. All in all, it looked remarkably similar to the statue of Sparda standing in the worship hall of the chapel.

Sanctus’s voice rang out across the city. “Do not fear! Our Savior has come for us, to deliver us salvation! We must repent and rejoice for the world has not yet come to an end!” As he spoke a ball of light formed above the statue before firing a beam of electricity at the city, instantly vaporizing every demon it touched. 

You tighten your grip on your rapier. Whatever that thing was, you could tell it was no Savior. Turning your back on it, you continue to evacuate the plaza and do your best to encourage as many people as you can to get to the other side of the city. Most of them heed your words, having seen you fighting off the demons, and those that don’t wind up being dragged along by family members that do. You briefly run into a gorgeous blond who seems to be doing the same thing you are and the two of you exchange nods as you move your respective groups. 

Once you’ve found and evacuated everyone you could, you turn your attention to the Hellgate. Though the statue and the armored demons were doing well with the defense of the city, the hellgate would continue to spew demons into your world as long as it was open. You weren’t sure how you’d manage it, but you knew that you had to figure out some way to close the portal. Figuring that the best place to start would be at the gate itself, you begin making your way towards the base of the monolith in the chapel’s courtyard.

As you sprint past an alleyway behind the chapel, you crash into a tall figure in a red leather trench coat. You would have been sent tumbling to the ground if it weren’t for the quick reflexes of the male you ran into. “Woah there, lil sis! Where are you going in such a hurry?”

You look up in surprise. “Dante!”

He smirks. “Sup.”

“Statues, apparently.” You reply dryly before becoming serious again. “What are you doing here? Where’s Nero? And Kyrie? Are they both alright? Did something happen? Well obviously something happened, there’s a giant statue flying over the city—”

Dante covers your mouth with his hand, stopping you and looking amused. “Y/N, you’re rambling.”

You laugh awkwardly. “Heh, sorry. I’m just worried.”

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Well the answer to your first question is simple, I’m here to close the hellgate and retrieve the Yamato. As for Nero and Kyrie… That’s... a bit more complicated.”

Your eyes narrow and Dante suddenly looks distinctly uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly under your intense gaze. “ Define, complicated .”

“Th-they, uh.. Well…”

“Spit. It. Out.”

Dante winces. “They’re, uh… Inside the statue.”

“ WHAT ?!” Your voice rises several octaves.

He cringes and holds up his hands placatingly. “N-now, let’s just calm down…”

“YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT MY SON AND THE GIRL I LOVE LIKE A DAUGHTER ARE TRAPPED INSIDE A KILLER STATUE AND YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN ?!” You shriek.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey…! It’ll be okay, I promise! The only reason I haven’t gotten them out already is because I need Yamato to do it!

You narrow your eyes suspiciously but back down. “Alright. But you had better get them out or so help me, I will hunt you down and castrate you with a rusty spoon!” At that Dante actually squeaks and you relax, knowing that he got the message. “Let’s go get Yamato.” You turn and start leading the way into the chapel. 

“Moms are terrifying…” Dante mutters behind you.

You smirk.

While the two of you made your way to the chapel, Dante had done his best to explain what had happened and you frowned at the thought of that creepy doctor guy having his hands on the Yamato. As you enter the chapel, you note how dark it is. The sun is no longer streaming in through the windows, leaving everything shrouded in gloom. As you move further into the room, you see Agnus sitting on the steps leading to the pulpit making notes on his ever-present clipboard with a spotlight shining down on him. He stands slowly. “It was my assumption that those demons would prove far inferior in the face of your tactics.”

You open your mouth to respond but are cut off by the spotlight switching to reveal Dante standing nonchalantly off to the side with his foot on a chair. When did he…?

“You summon and kill…” He kicks the chair away and casually walks to the center of the room. “Summon and kill… I fail to see the logic here.” He suddenly turns and dramatically reaches towards the sky. “Is sanity… the price to pay... for power?!” 

The light changes again, moving back to Agnus. Who is suddenly holding a skull…? “Humans… They are but stubborn and foolish.” Where did the lightning suddenly come from?! “It takes a journey to Hell for them to accept and praise their God. A fact that tickles,” He crushes the skull in punctuation. “Irony’s judgement.” And with a gentle breath, blows the dust in his hand into the air.

What am I watching…? You wonder as the light cuts back to Dante, who is now lounging on the floor.

“And your judgments interest me not.” He waves a hand carelessly and stands with a flourish. “For I am here… To reclaim…” He spreads his arms dramatically. “What is rightfully mine.”

Agnus, in his beetle form, leaps to where Dante was standing and dramatically raises his sword in the air with a shout. “Yamato! That is what you seek!” He swings the sword about in wide sweeps. “And that is why I wait in your path!” 

Suddenly confetti shoots out of nowhere as Dante surfs over on a pew with a laugh. “You will fumble in your opposition of my quest.” He pulls out one of his pistols and fires a single shot into the air before continuing. “Though I encourage! For an opportunity to battle a being of such grand delusion as you, is a sweet fortune!” With that Dante blows Agnus a kiss and dashes in with a swing of his sword.

You stand there, with your jaw open as you try to comprehend what you just watched, for a long moment. You only get shocked out of your stupor when half of a broken pew goes hurtling past where you’re standing. Shaken out of your stunned confusion you leap forward and deflect a sword hurtling towards Dante’s back.

“You!” Agnus shouts.

“Fancy meeting you here!” You chirp as you dodge another sword sent at you.

Dante laughs. “What took you so long?”

“My awe forced me to stand and stare in frozen wonder at the beauty of your gratuitous performance.”

Dante gives you a weird look. “Is that what passed as foreplay between you and Vergil?”

“WHAT THE FUCK, DANTE?!”

He pulls out a literal cannon and fires a shot at an unsuspecting Agnus—who was distracted by one of his own swords flying at him courtesy of Arachne’s Band—and shrugs. “I’m just sayin’! Vergil always liked to use big words like that! I couldn’t understand half of what he said most of the time.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not going to discuss your brother’s and my sex life with you, Dante.”

He blanches and pretends to gag. “Yeah, on second thought, don’t do that. I don’t wanna know anything about Vergil doing the nasty.”

“That’s what I thought.” You snort then fling yourself to the side when Agnus comes flying at you. Rolling to your feet, you see that the beetle has instead slammed into Dante who was standing behind you. You leap forward and use shadowstep to quickly close the distance between you and Agnus’s back before neatly severing one of his wings at the joint. He releases an ear splitting screech and you quickly leap out of the way of his counter swing. “Sorry, but I felt like you needed your wings clipped.” You say sweetly.

The bug-man lets out a roar of rage and charges at you, swinging wildly. You dash away and lead the way in a deadly chase while giving Dante the chance to recover. This was nothing like the fight with Arachne. The Spider demoness was large and bulky and though she was fast, she didn’t have the maneuverability you did. Agnus was a different story. The beetle was extremely fast and could easily keep up with the sharp turns and erratic movements you were making. Although he was no longer capable of flight, he was still able to cross the room with a couple of leaps. 

Agnus fires a blast of yellow electricity at your feet and you’re sent flying into the air, slamming into one of the nearby pillars with a thud. You feel something in your chest crack at the impact and suck in a sharp breath at the pain, only to let it out again in a scream as the expansion of your lungs jostles your most certainly broken ribs. You slide to the floor, trying not to pass out, and breath quickly and shallowly to avoid aggravating the injury further. The demon bug chuckles darkly as he approaches you, raising his sword to run you through, before he gets body-slammed by a flash of red.

Dante had activated his devil trigger and sucker-punched Agnus in what you assumed was his jaw. He was wearing an elaborate pair of boots and gauntlets, you figured they were a form of devil arm, and was now punching and kicking the beetle with an elaborate form of mixed martial arts. After a rapid flurry of blows, Dante strikes Agnus in the center of his chest with an open palm and sends him flying into one of the last upright pews.

The beetle man lets out a cry of pain and fades into his human form and in response, Dante allows his demon form to fade as he slowly approaches. “How can there be such a difference b-b-b-between us?!” Agnus cries out in shock.

Dante shrugs. “You surrendered your humanity. It’s that simple.” 

“But you are not human!” Agnus points his finger accusingly. “So why am I inferior?”

Dante looks down at him with a frown. “You assume humans are weak. Okay, yeah. Their bodies lack the physical ability of a demon, but humans possess something that demons don’t.”

Agnus stands and scurries forward, making notes on his clipboard. “Wh-what? What is it that demons l-l-lack? Please, for the sake of my research!”

You roll your eyes at that as you slowly prop yourself up on the pillar with a grimace of pain.

“Please! Tell me!” Agnus shouts and Dante whips out a pistol and shoots the clipboard out of the man’s hand. The scientist, if you can call him that, panics and desperately tries to catch the papers now flying through the air. “No! No-no-no-no…!” 

Dante glares and speaks in a scathing tone. “If you’re gonna continue your research in the next world…” He points his gun at the stuttering man. “Do your homework first.” With that, he puts a bullet between Agnus’s eyes. “And the rest… Is silence.” 

Dante bows elegantly and you snort. “Well silent or not, get your dramatic ass over here and help me with this.”

He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.” He walks over and kneels beside you. “What’s the damage?”

“I’m pretty sure at least two of my ribs are broken, maybe more.” You say through gritted teeth.

Dante hums and reaches out to gently feel along the lines of your ribs, pausing when you wince and carefully checking each rib for movement. “I’d say only one is completely broken. You probably have a couple more that are cracked though. You hit that pillar pretty damn hard.” 

You fake a surprised look. “Oh wow! I had no idea!”

He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm before growing serious again. “Okay, so… You know what demon orbs are, right? And the different kinds there are?”

“Yeah. Crystallized demon blood. It can be used as a form of currency, for healing, or to restore demonic power. Depending on the color, that is.” At Dante’s raised brow you frown defensively. “What?”

“Nothing. Just didn’t expect you to know all that.” He shrugs. “I figured you’d know some since you live in Fortuna, but not quite that much.”

“Vergil explained it to me.”

“Huh. I never took him for the teaching type.”

You cock your head slightly and look at him speculatively. “I’m starting to get the impression that you don’t really know your brother all that well, Dante.”

The man silently notes the use of present tense, but chooses not to comment. “I guess I don’t. But that’s a story for another time. Now let’s get you patched up!” Dante starts digging around in his pockets. “Do green orbs work on you?”

“Sort of?” You start to shrug but stop yourself, realizing that it would probably end rather painfully for you. “Technically, my abilities aren’t demonic in nature. They stem from a supernatural source that is similar to demons but also inherently different. I can use two or three orbs to kick start my healing process and give it a bit of a boost, but any more than that…? Let’s just say it won’t end well.”

At his questioning look, you cringe slightly. “Look, I can’t go into detail right now. Okay? It’ll raise way too many questions. All I’ll say is that demonic power and I don’t mix well. I can use things like Arms because the power is contained within the arm and I’m just manipulating what’s already there, but taking too much raw demonic power into my body is... bad. Very bad.” 

Dante gives you an intense look for a long moment and you try not to squirm before he sighs. “Alright, fine. I’ll drop it for now. But,” He looks you square in the eye. “You will be explaining everything when this is over.” You sigh and nod as he pulls out a roll of bandages and a medium sized green orb. He crushes the orb and gently presses his hand to your chest, watching wordlessly as the green swirls of energy are absorbed into your body.

You sigh quietly in relief as the harsh burning in your chest fades into a dull ache and you sit up gingerly, raising your arms so that Dante can begin wrapping the bandage tightly around your chest. You wince as he pulls it as tight as possible without restricting your breathing. “I get why it has to be tight, but still. Ow.”

He laughs quietly. “Normally, I’ll just use orbs till I’m back at a hundred percent, but several buddies of mine are completely human and, like you, orbs don’t really work on them. So I ended up learning first aid. I got a certificate for it and everything!”

You grin and chuckle before gasping in pain. “Ha-ah…! O-Okay, Y/N, don’t laugh! Laughing is a bad idea…!” You take a moment to catch your breath before speaking again. “You’re really just a big softie, aren’t you Dante?”

He acts shocked and pretends to be offended at that, but you can see the hints of a smile as he finishes wrapping your chest and ties off the bandage. He helps you to your feet gently and you carefully stretch, testing your movement.

You’re stiff, and the dull throbbing in your side grows to a searing pain if you turn too quickly but it’ll do. “This should work for now. I don’t heal as quickly as you or Nero can, but it’s still faster than a baseline human. I’ll be able to fight without a handicap in about an hour, though it’ll hurt like hell, and I’ll be completely recovered in a couple of days.”

Dante looks like he wants to protest you continuing on but wisely chooses to keep quiet. “Well, do you know where to go from here? ‘Cause I got no clue.”

You walk over to the circle at the center of the raised dais. “Every citizen of Fortuna knows where the entrance to the Hellgate is. It’s considered a very important religious location since it’s the spot where Sparda severed the demon world from the human world.” You crouch down and gingerly feel along the tiles. “One must descend into the pit alone and pray on the seal before being recognized as an adult citizen by the city council and the Order. I had to do so as well before being recognized as the Matron of the orphanage and if I remember correctly, the button to lower the entrance should be right… about… here .” Your fingers find the invisible marking carved into the corner of one of the tiles and there’s a click as you press the tile down. The floor begins to descend and you wave to Dante. “Well? C’mon, then!” He blinks in surprise before sprinting forward and hopping on the platform as it descends. 

It takes quite a while for the platform to lower completely, and you’re met with a long hallway lit with glowing torches. A faint red light glows at the end. It’s silent between the two of you as you lead the way to the seal. Your footsteps echo and as you grow closer to the end of the hall the red light becomes brighter. The musty smell of stagnant water hangs in the air and you can hear the sounds of dripping. Shivering slightly in the cold, damp air you hug yourself for security. It’s just as unnerving down here as it was the last time you entered. Though last time you were alone and now you take comfort in the fact that Dante is here with you. Something about this place felt unwelcoming to you. You knew that it was most likely your power clashing with the demonic energy in the air, but still, it was creepy.

Finally, you step through a large archway and enter a large cavern filled with water. The water is glowing with an unnatural red light and strange demonic symbols stretch across its surface. In the center of the room is a black dais with even more sigils carved into the stone. The symbols glow dully and you see the Yamato impaled in the rock glowing the same demonic red. Dante pauses to take in the room but you stride forward and cross the small stone bridge connecting the dais to the entrance.

You stop and gaze at the sword. You haven’t been this close to the Yamato since that day. The day you left. It looks exactly the same and you hesitate a moment before strengthening your resolve. It pulses and grows warm in your hand as you reach forward to grab the hilt. You relax, it still remembers you. 

Dante suddenly spots you on the dais with your hand on the Yamato. He starts to run forward and shouts. “Hey! Wait, don’t—!”

With a quiet grunt of effort you pull the sword free. The room flashes white and the symbols disappear from the water as the dais’s glow fades. The ceiling rumbles for a moment and you know that the Hellgate above ground has closed and sealed. Ignoring Dante’s shocked expression, you turn your attention to the blade humming quietly in your hand and smile gently. “Hello, Yamato.” It pulses in response before growing still and you can just barely register the feeling of contentment rising from the sword.

Chapter Text

The bell rang loudly and you did your best to disguise your flinch. The children chattered happily as they packed their bags and began filing out of the room, some wishing you a good afternoon as they passed, and you sighed. Your mind had been racing all week and it was a struggle to remain focused on even the simplest of tasks. No matter what you did to distract yourself, your thoughts always drifted back to that night in your quarters and what Vergil had told you. You’d made no effort to hide your disbelief at his words and the man had simply shook his head before taking his leave for the evening. Though you were still occasionally retrieving research material for him, you hadn’t seen Vergil nearly as often. You were ashamed to admit to yourself that you’d been avoiding him since that day. For some reason he seemed to have expected this reaction and had not been approaching you as often, only seeking you out if he needed access to more resources or needed clarification on some of the texts you had provided him with.

In fact, it seemed as if he’d been in the abbey less and less lately. You’d heard from a few of the students that he had been seen in the town itself and had been inspecting and asking questions about the town’s more historic sights. The townsfolk, though reluctant, had been answering most of his questions. They would always jump at the chance to talk about St. Edith’s illustrious history. You roll your eyes and begin gathering your own books and papers, carefully placing them in the messenger bag on your desk. You glance at the clock on the wall and curse at the late hour. Rapidly stuffing the last of the books into your bag, you scoop up the papers and dash out of the room before jogging down the halls to your rooms. Tomorrow was the anniversary of the day that the construction of the abbey was completed. Fondly called Founder’s Day by the locals, it was a big event. It also happened to be the one time that your father could stand to have you in the house so you were heading into town to stay for the weekend and see your mother.

You reach your rooms and throw the door open, haphazardly tossing your bag and papers onto the end of your couch before scooping up your small overnight bag. Since you lacked any form of vehicle, you would have to walk the three or so miles separating the town from the abbey and you truly did not want to be walking along the road after dark. You carefully lock the door to your quarters before placing the key inside your bag and you make your way out of the abbey. Ensuring that the gate closes behind you, you set off down the road. 

A breeze ruffles your hair and you inhale deeply with a smile. Spring had only just begun so while the days were fairly warm, the evenings still got rather chilly. Right now, just before dusk, the heat of the day lingered while a cool wind blew creating the perfect conditions for a walk. Moving at a brisk pace, you hummed quietly to yourself and idly inspected the branches of the trees. The limbs were still bare for the moment but you could see the faint dusting of green that signified new growth. 

The street lamps were just flickering to life when you strolled into the town square, and you paused a moment to admire the lovely sight. There was no denying the beauty of the town. The older houses were built from the same reddish stone as the abbey, while others were obviously of the victorian style. The mixing of the two distinct eras made for a strange but elegant air within the town and travelers enjoyed stopping to admire the old homes. You make your way through the town square and are about to turn onto your parent’s street when someone grabs your arm.

Your first instinct is to swing out with a fist as you turn, but a much larger hand catches your own. Vergil’s stoic gaze meets your own and you relax. Seeing that you’re no longer about to attack him, he releases your arm and takes a step back. You huff. “You could just say ‘Hello’ like a normal person, you know?”

His stern expression didn’t change. “I felt it would be best for our public interactions to be kept discrete.”

You stare at him for a moment, thrown off by the sudden formality. You begin to ask about it but realize that it was most likely caused by your own hesitance to approach him. Closing your mouth, you feel a stab of guilt and look down quietly. “J-Just tell me what’s wrong…” You mumble. 

He sighs and you glance up to see him running his fingers through his hair anxiously. The nervous gesture seems strange on him. “Something isn’t right.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

He turns to peer out the entrance of the alley for a brief moment before looking back at you with a deep frown. “I’m not sure. You remember what I told you about the journal and how it relates to this place, correct?”

You purse your lips and withhold your scoff, instead choosing to simply nod.

Vergil scowls at you. “I understand that you don’t believe me, but please trust me when I say that it would be in your best interest to listen.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes and cross your arms to keep from shivering. It was completely dark by now and had started to grow chilly. “I’m listening. Now hurry up, it’s getting cold.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by the clock tower striking seven. You curse. You were now officially late. “Look, I have to go.” You start to jog towards your parent’s house again. Glancing back, you see him standing there with a conflicted look and you call out to him. “If it’s really that important, you can meet me tomorrow morning. At the south edge of town there’s an old oak tree with a well underneath it, meet me there at nine!”

You don’t wait for a reply and begin half jogging, half running down the street.

It doesn’t take you long to reach your parents house, and even though you’re only a few minutes late, you’re certain that your father will give you a hard time about it. You stride up the path and pause to take in the house. It hasn’t changed at all. You sigh, and make your way inside.

Gently shutting the door behind you, you place your bag in a nearby armchair. Hearing the gentle clinking of cutlery, you take a deep breath and make your way into the dining room. Taking a seat at the open place setting, you quietly begin serving yourself. It was pot roast—your father’s favorite—and you carefully spooned some boiled potatoes and a few carrots onto your plate as well. 

“You’re late.” Your father spoke quietly, but you could hear the disapproval in his tone. 

“I apologize, I was held up for a moment in the square.” It fell silent again and you began eating. You savor the flavor of the tender roast and smile. Your mother had always been a good cook and the familiar taste brought you a sense of comfort. The rest of the meal was silent. Your father finished first and stood before taking his empty plate to the kitchen. Moments later, you heard the stairs creaking and knew that he had gone to his study to work on some sort of paperwork for the city council.

Your mother glances at you. “That went well.”

You laugh quietly. “It certainly could have gone worse.” You admit.

Your mother smiles and stands, taking her plate and your own. “How are you, dear?”

“I’m doing fine. The sisters at the abbey say that I’ll be ready for my own class next year.” You stand up and begin to clear the table.

“That’s wonderful! Are you excited?”

You shrug. “Sort of? I’ll admit that I like the thought of being in the classroom full time but I know that I’ll miss the library. It’s peaceful, you know?”

She laughs. “I understand. Though I think you’ll be a fantastic teacher. You have such a gentle soul, I know that the children will love you.” 

“Moooooom….” You whine and blush as she laughs.

Later, as you lay in your old bed, your mind wanders back to Vergil and you think about the odd encounter you had with him in the square. He had seemed honestly worried and you idly wondered what had been bothering him. You sigh and roll over in a vain attempt to get comfortable as you close your eyes. You lay there and try to sleep for an unknown amount of time when a faint sound rouses you from the light dose you’d managed to fall into.

You slowly open your eyes and listen carefully. There! You hear a faint tinkling, as if shards of glass were falling to the floor. You frown and sit up before standing. Making your way to the door, you shiver and pause to grab your jacket as your bare feet pad across the floor. The house was unusually cold, your father usually preferred to keep it rather warm. You slide your arms into the sleeves of your jacket and zipped it up before beginning to make your way downstairs. You figured that the sound was just your mother in the kitchen making a cup of tea. She sometimes had issues with insomnia and would make some tea to relax. When you still lived here you would sometimes stay up with her, it was how you’d learned to enjoy the drink.

As you make your way into the dining room you relax. The door to the kitchen is open and one of the lights is on. You smile and open your mouth to call out to your mother as you approach when you freeze. It’s completely silent in the house. Normally if your mother was making tea she’d be humming quietly as she moved around the kitchen. It wasn’t the silence that made you freeze however. It was the fact that the shadow thrown by the light from the kitchen was not your mother’s . 

You hear a snarl and see some kind of… thing staring at you from the open doorway. You gasp and stumble backwards in horror as it leaps at you. You suck in a breath to scream as it tackles you and you feel the sharp teeth tear at your throat as—

You suddenly sit bolt upright in your bed, soaked in sweat and gasping for air. Your hands briefly scrabble at your neck as you tremble and you slowly start to relax when you can find no sign of injury. You sigh and let your hands fall to your lap, there was no chance of you falling back asleep after a nightmare like that . You slide out of your bed and walk silently to the window. Nightmares had been a common occurrence since you were young. Usually they were the ordinary dreams of indistinct shapes and shadows that left you with a vague feeling of insecurity, but sometimes you’d get one that was particularly bad. Tonight’s, for instance. 

You slowly get dressed and slide for feet into your boots, not bothering to retie them. Quietly leaving your room, you zip your jacket and head downstairs and on reflex, glance into the dining room. The last of the tension leaves you when you see that the door to the kitchen is closed and the dining room is dark. You let out a quiet huff of laughter at your paranoia and make your way to the front door. Previously, whenever you’d had a nightmare like the one tonight, you would go out and wander around the deserted town square. For some reason the warm light from the street lamps lighting up the empty streets gave you a sense of comfort.

As you place your hand on the doorknob, something makes you pause and peer through the frosted glass of the window before opening the door. A chill runs down your spine. Just outside the door and silhouetted by the faint glow of the corner street lamp is a large shape. The figure is indistinct and blurred by the glass of the door and your hands fly to your mouth to cover your gasp. You drop to the floor, ducking out of sight, and press your back to the wood of the door. The combination of the light from outside and the darkness of the house had worked to your advantage, rendering you invisible to anyone outside. When nothing starts banging on the door, you take a deep breath and start quietly crawling back to the stairs. 

You’re about halfway across the foyer when you hear a series of loud thumps and a crash from upstairs and your mother lets out a scream. You gasp and the cold feeling of dread starts to overcome you. You immediately forget about the threat behind you and sprint the stairs, your feet thundering on the wooden steps. “MOM!” You shriek.

You dash to your parent’s room and fling open the door and let out a quiet moan of despair at what you see. Your father is lying on the floor with his legs tangled in the bedsheets and a pool of blood is slowly growing around his head. The window on the far side of the room is completely shattered and shards of glass are scattered on the rug and a cold wind ruffles the curtains. Your mother is nowhere to be seen. 

Trying not to panic, you hurry over to your father and carefully place two fingers at his neck. You breathe a sigh of relief at the steady throb. Rolling him over carefully, you inspect the wound on his head. There’s a large discolored lump at his hairline and a shallow gash runs across it. It was better than you were afraid of, but worse than you’d hoped. Linking your hands under his arms, you begin dragging your father back into your room. You knew that you weren’t supposed to move a person with head trauma but right now you were more worried about the shock. You had to keep him warm.

Reaching your room, you carefully maneuver him onto the bed. It was rather difficult as your father was a tall man and you had taken after your mother, who was rather small. Once he’s situated with a few pillows underneath his head and shoulders, you run back to your parent’s room and grab the thick comforter off the bed. Folding it once to double the thickness you toss it over him and pull your own blankets over the top of it. After you finish covering him, you check your father’s head wound. The gash is still bleeding sluggishly and you rush to the bathroom for the first aid kit. You return and open it with shaking hands. Just as you start to pull out wrapped patches of gauze, another crash echoes from downstairs. 

You turn white. The front door. Your mind unhelpfully supplies. You’d completely forgotten about the figure you’d seen and now you had a sinking feeling that it was no longer outside. You glance at your father before frantically pressing the half open package of gauze against his head, hopefully it would help staunch the bleeding a bit, and leap to your feet. You scramble out of the room and shut the door behind you as you desperately search for a weapon. A low growl stops you and you turn.

At the end of the hall is a strange dog-like creature. Its body is emaciated and dark skin is stretched over its bony form. Large red sores ooze pus and you can see what looks like pieces of rebar sticking out of its body in random places. Dirty bandages wrap around its snout, binding what looks like a wooden mask to its head. It snarls at you.

You tense and take a step back as your eyes dart around for an escape. As it prowls forward you spot something. There, hanging on a display just past the bathroom, is a rusted and tarnished rapier. You could remember the day your father had come home with it though you were only eight at the time. He’d found it at a traveling antiques show and immediately bought it. Your mother had hated it on sight. It sparked many arguments between your parents. Your mother was worried about having a weapon like that near a young child, while your father didn’t want to give up an ‘important piece of history.’ Eventually they’d compromised. It had remained in their room until you were old enough for your mother to not worry about you injuring yourself with it, and after that it would be moved to a display rack in the hallway.

You take a deep breath. That sword was your only hope of surviving, so when the hound crouched to spring at you, you readied yourself. When the creature jumped, you threw yourself forward and to the side—barely escaping its snapping jaw—before scrambling your feet. You sprint down the hall as you hear the scrabbling of claws on wood and you know that the hound is preparing to charge you again. You’ve just reached the rapier and are in the midst of pulling it free, when you feel the sharp pain of the hound’s teeth as it clamps its jaws in your side. You let out a scream of pain and bash it in the head with the butt of the sword. It yelps before letting go and you stagger backwards. 

You press a hand into your side and shakily point the sword at the hound. As you fight back a shudder at the sight of your blood dripping from its jaws, you let out a sob. You knew nothing about swordplay, beyond ‘hold the pointy end towards the enemy and hope for the best.’ Still, any weapon was better than none. The beast jumps again and you shriek and swing the sword wildly as you duck to the side. Your arm meets resistance and you hear a snarl as you desperately try to keep some distance between the two of you. You glance at the sword and the blackish brown ichor dripping from it before looking at the hound. It’s now favoring one of it’s paws, refusing to place it on the ground and walking with a distinct limp. 

You raise the sword again, fighting back your trembles as the beast growls low in its throat. The injury seems to have done nothing except anger it and it springs at you once more. You scream and desperately raise the sword as it leaps and, by some stroke of luck, you impale the creature. It’s weight knocks you to the ground once again and you’re briefly overwhelmed by the putrid smell of its breath. Gasping, you shove at the body on top of you only to watch in shock as it suddenly disintegrates before your very eyes. You lay there in a stupor for a moment before starting to laugh hysterically. You’re not sure when the laughter turns into sobs.

You remain in the hall for an unknown amount of time, half laughing and half sobbing. Eventually, you slowly sit up and brace yourself against the wall before staggering back to your room. You shut the door behind you and drop to your knees next to the first aid kit. You pick up another wad of gauze and mechanically go back to treating your father. Checking the wound, you see that the bleeding has mostly stopped and you carefully spray some antiseptic on it before gently wrapping it and securing it with a strip of medical tape. Then you slowly look at your side.

Your clothes are ripped and you can see that, while they’re not soaked, there is an alarming amount of blood on them. You gently lift your shirt and wince at the sight. When you bashed the hound’s head, you’d caused it to jerk away from the impact. So instead of a couple dozen clean punctures from its teeth, you instead had a semi-circle of jagged flesh where the teeth had torn your side open. Under normal circumstances you’d have needed stitches and a rabies shot. 

You glance at the small spool of medical twine and curved needles. You honestly didn’t think your hands were steady enough to stitch this closed so you’d have to settle for butterfly strips. You grab some gauze and begin carefully dabbing the blood away from the wound. It would have to be disinfected before you did anything else. You look at the small bottle of alcohol and cringe before picking it up and removing the cap. This was going to fucking hurt.

You tip the bottle and let out a blood curdling scream as the alcohol runs over your open wound. Your side felt like it was on fire and you are unable to contain your whimpering sobs as you look back down at the horrid bite. The alcohol had washed away the last of the blood and you could now clearly see the jagged and twisted edges of the torn flesh. You pick up the packet of butterfly strips, struggling to open them as your hands shake. Finally getting on free, you peel the back away and place the adhesive on your skin and start pulling the wound shut. You’re not sure how long it takes you, but the ground is littered with little strips of paper by the time you’ve finished sealing the wound. You take the largest patch of gauze you can find and carefully press it to your side before tightly wrapping a long bandage around your waist. 

Once you’ve finished bandaging your wound, you carefully place everything back into the first aid kit and push it off to the side. Your head falls back against the edge of the mattress as you sit on the floor, leaning against your bed frame. The rapier rests on the floor nearby and you stare at it, suddenly exhausted. You’re not sure when you pass out.

Something touches your shoulder and you jerk away, lashing out wildly with your fists. Warm hands grip your wrists and gently pin them to your sides as a familiar voice calls your name. “Y/N. Y/N! It’s me!”

Your eyes fly open and you see Vergil crouched in front of you with a look of concern on his face. You stare up at him in confusion. “Vergil…? Why are you in my house…?”

He releases you and stands up before backing away slightly and you take the chance to observe him. He’s wearing his usual outfit with one addition. A sturdy black belt is wrapped around his waist and an ornate sword rests at his hip. It’s shape is reminiscent of a katana and you can’t help but feel as if you’re truly seeing him for the first time. Maybe it was the way he stood, completely relaxed with one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, but something about it felt… right. He clears his throat and you blush, realizing that you’d just been sitting there and blatantly staring at him. 

Seeing that he now has your attention he begins to explain. “On my way into town this morning, I was attacked by a group of dog-like demons. I was able to dispatch them quickly but as I made my way into town I encountered two more packs.” Vergil hesitates and looks slightly uncomfortable. “I was… worried, for your safety so rather than waiting at our agreed upon meeting place I came here instead.”

You blink. “You… were worried. About me…?” 

“I… Yes.” His pale cheeks have the barest tint of red to them and he steadfastly refuses to meet your eyes. Clearing his throat again, he schools his expression. “When I saw the state of your door I knew that you had been attacked, so I saw myself in. I had prepared myself for the worst upon entering. However…” He glances at the ancient rapier covered in dried gore. “It seems as if you handled yourself rather well.”

The last of your sleep induced stupor fades and you frown. “Wait, hold up. You said that you ran into demons.”

“That is correct.” He was being quite patient. Calmly allowing you the time you needed to wrap your head around the situation.

“Then that means that the dog thing that busted into my house last night was a…?

“A demon, yes. I believe that this is an apt moment for the phrase ‘I told you so.’” Vergil replies dryly and a hysterical giggle bubbles out of your throat.

“Y-yeah. I-I kinda deserved that one…!” You start to stand up only to flinch and groan when a hot flash of pain reminds you of the bite on your side. 

Vergil’s eyes narrow and he crosses the room to you in two long strides. Crouching next to you again, he sees you clutching your side. “What happened?”

“The damn d-demon bit me when I was going for the sword.” He frowns and gently pries your hand away before lifting your shirt slightly and carefully prods at your rough bandaging. He pauses when you hiss in pain before continuing to delicately feel out the size of the wound. You roll your eyes. “I’ll be fine, I got it off of me before it could bite down fully. It just hurts like a bitch.”

He gives you a disapproving look at your use of profanity and in response you stick your tongue out at him. He snorts at your childish behavior and stands to check on your father, whom you’d all but forgotten about. “I’m not sure why there are demons currently prowling around St. Edith. The seals on the hellgate are intact and while they are old, they are still incredibly strong. There isn’t enough ambient energy leaking through for them to manifest on their own.” Vergil turns to you with a dark look. “Which means that someone is summoning them deliberately.”

You look up at him in horror. “What?! Why on earth would someone do that?!”

His answer is simple. “Power.”

You’re silent for a moment before you ignore the lingering pain in your side and force yourself to stand. “Alright then. I’m assuming that you’re going after whoever started this?”

He raises an eyebrow at you and nods.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m coming with you.”

“No.” His response was instant.

You glare up at him. “I’m not arguing with you on this Vergil! I. Am. Coming. With. You.”

He glares at you in return. “Absolutely not. It’s far too dangerous. There are demons all over the town.”

“I dealt with the one that broke in here!”

He scoffs. “That was a single, low rank demon. It was also most likely driven into a frenzy by the scent of your father’s blood. You were also injured in that one fight. You are going to stay here while I investigate. No arguments.” He turns and starts heading for the door.

“Damnit Vergil, they took my Mom!” He pauses in the doorway and glances at you out of the corner of his eye with an unreadable expression. “Before the demon broke in, there was a crash from my parent’s room.” You half sob, half shout. “When I got there, my dad was on the floor in a pool of blood and my mom was gone. They fucking took her! I have to find her, please!”

He doesn’t move as you stand there with your chest heaving from your emotional outburst. After a moment he sighs. “Bring the rapier, you’ll need it.” You scramble forward and scoop up the sword before hurriedly following the man into the hallway and down the stairs. He turns to you just before entering the street. “Before we leave you must listen to me. Demons are highly dangerous and while they will pose no trouble for me, they can easily kill you.” You swallow nervously and nod. You were well aware of that fact. “Many demons are able to attack large areas and not just single targets. So if I tell you to run, you must run.”

You nod quietly and he eyes you for a moment before stepping out of the ruined doorway. “Hey, Vergil?” He pauses and turns back to you. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that I didn’t believe you before.” 

He laughs quietly. “Honestly? I wouldn’t have believed myself either.” You both chuckle for a moment before you follow him into the town.

On your way to the square, you and Vergil encounter a pair of hounds. Rather than killing them immediately, Vergil takes it as an opportunity to teach you the basics of swordplay. “Watch.” He draws his blade and faces off against the two demons. “Rule number one of combat: Never turn your back on your enemy. When facing off against a group such as this, do not let them separate as they will try to surround you.” He quickly lunged at one of the hounds. It had been attempting to circle around in order to attack him from the side. It backed away from the attack with a low growl. “Two: Always keep your weapon between your enemy and yourself. Never rear back for a swing as it will open your guard and leave you vulnerable to attack. Advice for a beginner, such as yourself, is to keep the very tip of your sword level with your eyes. This will keep you from over extending your arms and allow you to develop proper posture.” 

Your eyes followed his movements carefully, observing his stance and the carefully controlled movements. As you watched, Vergil slowed his movements down and slightly exaggerated his swings. You carefully mimic a few moves and bite your lip in concentration. There was no way you’d become an expert or even relatively competent from this quick crash course of a lesson, but hopefully you could pick up enough to keep yourself from getting killed. 

After a few moments of Vergil essentially playing with the demonic hounds and you sloppily copying his moves, one of the dogs seems fed up with the fight and springs at Vergil. The man calmly catches the attack with the flat of his sword and kicks the beast away with one foot. He then steps back and shoves you forward and you stumble before looking at him in slight panic. “W-wiat, what are you doing?!”

“Focus, or they will kill you.” He states dryly.

You quickly whip back around to face the demons, which are now focused on you, and resolve to punch him after this. You take a deep breath and focus on the hounds. The smaller of the two tries to circle around you, but you take Vergil’s advice into account and move to keep the two together. It takes another step closer and you lash out with the rapier. The demon yelps and leaps back with a small gash on its flank. It was little more than a scratch, but it still gave you some confidence. The larger of the two demons took advantage of your attention being focused on the smaller and it leapt at you. You brace yourself and mimic the way Vergil had caught the attack with the flat of his sword and are surprised when, instead of being able to shove the demon back, you are bowled over. 

There’s a meaty thud and a yelp as Vergil kicks the demon back before hauling you to your feet. “You have neither the size, nor the strength I do and not only that, your weapon is a rapier. Do not try to stop a demon’s attack head on. You will be unable too. A rapier is meant for quick stabbing or slashing attacks and deflecting or parrying an enemy’s swings. Speed and agility are your strong suits.”

You nod, breathing too heavily to speak, and face off with the demons again. This time, when the demon leaps at you, you dodge to the side and allow the hound’s momentum to carry it past you. As it lands and starts to turn to face you again, you lunge forward with a stab and are momentarily stunned when your blade sinks into the demon’s side easily. It lets out a small whimper before exploding in a cloud of green-tinged particles. You let out a short laugh of relief which gets turned into a shriek of surprise when Vergil shoves you out of the way of the second demon’s attack. 

“Celebrate after all the demons are dead.” You can practically hear his eye roll and you flush in embarrassment at your lack of attention. You face off with the remaining demon and dispose of it in the same way as the first. Allowing it to spring at you, you dodge the attack and run it through. It explodes in the same manner as the first and you breathe a sigh of relief. Your sword drops as you gasp for breath, suddenly exhausted as the adrenaline from the fight leaves your body. You look at Vergil, who is eyeing you appraisingly. “Perhaps you won’t die after all.” He mutters and you feel a spark of pride. That was almost a complement.

Upon reaching the square, the two of you decide to begin your investigation inside the abbey. It was the most logical place for a summoner to hide due to the availability of resources and the residual energy from the hellgate. Unfortunately, that meant that the two of you had to cross town. You made fairly quick progress, the only demons that you had encountered up to this point were the various packs of hounds patrolling the streets. If the group was larger than three, Vergil would quickly dispatch them before moving on. However if the group was of three or less, the man would pit you against them in an effort to further increase your skills. By this point, you felt as if you were a walking bruise. Though you had to admit that the rather unorthodox training method was working. Your battle awareness had vastly improved and you were slowly beginning to predict the movements of the demons. 

By this point the sun had risen completely and there was no sign of any of the other townsfolk. You hoped that they were simply hiding but the more logical side of you said that they were most likely dead. You sigh and Vergil glances at you, observing your worried expression. He starts to speak but falters when the two of you reach the shaded path that leads to the abbey. He pauses, holding out his arm to stop you as well, before peering around warily. 

It takes you a moment to realize why he’s on edge and when you do, you freeze. It’s too quiet. It’s mid morning on a fairly warm spring day, normally you’d be able to hear and see all sorts of birds and other animals out and about. Today however, the forest is dead silent and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

Something slams into you from behind and you’re sent tumbling down a small incline. You scramble to your feet and spin around to see Vergil facing off with what you assumed was another demon. 

This thing was ugly . It was vaguely humanoid and  stood head and shoulders above Vergil. Its arms were disgusting tentacles that dragged along the ground and bright green pustules covered its body. Rusted iron plates were tied to its body in various places to serve as a form of armor and the thing moved as if it was in pain. The demon let out a sort of whimpering grunt, drawing your eyes to its face, and you recoiled in horror while trying desperately not to vomit. Instead of a head, the demon had a huge green and gray hornets nest grafted to it’s shoulders. Black ichor leaked from holes in the top of it’s head and the thing twitched and moved as if there was something inside it. Its whimpering increased in volume before it let out a roar and began beating the side of its head before taking a swing at Vergil. 

You watched in disgust as the demon’s arm stretched like a piece of taffy and completely obliterated the tree where Vergil was previously standing. The man in question had leapt over the appendage and sprinted over to where you lay sprawled in the leaves. He hauls you to your feet and shoves you further down the path. “Run, now!”

You stumble a few steps further before hesitating and looking back. Vergil is completely focused on his opponent now and you briefly wonder if you should help him before remembering your promise, if he told you to run, you had to run. You hesitate a moment longer before the demon makes your decision for you. It beats its head with one of its arms again and a swarm of poisonous green insects begin flying out of the hive. At that point you decide not to stick around any longer and take off at a dead sprint, intent on putting as much space between you and that demon as possible. 

As you run, you hear an angry buzzing behind you and know that either part or all of the swarm had bypassed vergil in favor of chasing you and you forced yourself to put on another burst of speed. The gash in your side was screaming at you and your lungs were burning as you rounded a bend in the trail and the dark stone walls of the abbey came into view. You dash up to the gate house and fumble with the lock for a moment before wrenching the heavy door open and slamming it behind you. The buzzing is muffled now and you throw the dead bolt for good measure before looking around for something to plug the gap underneath the door. In the corner you see some old tarps from when the chapel was repainted the year before and you quickly drag them over before shoving them in the crevasses along the bottom and edges of the door. Once you’re sure that no bugs will be able to crawl in through the cracks, you let yourself sink to the floor with a relieved sob. 

You sat there shivering for a few minutes before managing to get a hold of yourself. You press your hand to your side and idly note that you’ve started to bleed through your bandages and groan in pain as you force yourself back to your feet. Pressing an ear to the door, you carefully listen for the swarm. There’s no sound, so you cautiously undo the latch and crack open th rn door to peer out. When nothing immediately kept at you you eased the door open further and carefully exited

Dante followed you silently as you led the way out of the chapel, Yamato clutched firmly in your hands. You hadn’t given it to the man after removing it from the pedestal and Dante hadn’t demanded its return. He seemed content to let you hold onto it for now, understanding the sentimental value it carried. Reaching the edge of the church yard, you turn and look up at the hell gate towering above the square. The once-smooth surface of black stone is now cracked and broken.

“I know that it’s a major cultural artifact and all… But—”

“But it’s bad for the community.” You interrupt with a snort. You turn to look at Dante with a rueful grin. “I’ve been wary of it since I moved here. Although, this is the first time we’ve had an issue with it.” You glance at the sword in your hands before offering it to the man and he takes it with a questioning look. You shrug. “While I can wield the Yamato somewhat efficiently, I have neither the skill nor the power needed to destroy a hellgate with it.”

You step back without prompting and Dante glances at you out of the corner of his eye before smoothly drawing the sword and slashing the air with it. The stone monolith flashes briefly as Dante swings the Yamato twice more before striking a familiar pose. He slowly slides the blade back into its scabbard until the hilt meets the wood with an audible click. Behind him, the hellgate splits in two, before slowly falling to the ground revealing the monstrous statue in the distance. He stands and follows your gaze, taking note of the worry in your eyes. “I’ll bring him back.” He murmurs.

You glance at him and open your mouth to reply, but pause at the sound of heels clicking on the concrete behind you. You turn and see the blonde you had briefly run into while helping to evacuate the townsfolk. She glances at you curiously before looking at Dante. “So, you get it back?” 

He shows her the Yamato without taking his eyes off of the distant ‘Savior’. “Here’s one sword.”

“And one to go.” She watches in slight confusion when Dante turns to you and offers you the Yamato. You take it wordlessly and meet her suspicious glare with an even look. 

Dante smirks. “Y/N, this is Trish. An excellent demon hunter and one of my oldest friends. Trish, meet Y/N. Nero’s mom.” 

She gives him a look. “Nero, as in the kid?”

“Yup.” He grins at her and she places a hand on her hip before raising an eyebrow.

“So, you two…” She gestures at you and Dante and you shake your head with a small smirk, already knowing where Dante was going with this.

“Not with him.” She stares at you blankly for a moment before you wave at her with the Yamato and it finally clicks.

“WHAT?!” She stares at you in complete shock and Dante loses it.

“You should see your face…!” He’s bent over laughing while pointing at Trish, who seems unable to wrap her mind around the revelation. 

You roll your eyes and smack Dante in the back of his head, knocking him on his face. He sits up and rubs his nose with a halfhearted glare and you roll your eyes. “Don’t give me that look, you deserved it.” You turn back to Trish, who seems to have composed herself again. “I know you probably have questions, but as I told Dante, they’ll have to wait until after this is over.”

It seems like she wants to argue for a moment, before she sighs and nods. “You’re right.” She glances at the statue in the distance before looking back at Dante. “Need some company to deal with that?”

He stands up and hums for a moment before sighing. “I think you better help the others. Try to get them as far away from here as possible.” 

Trish shrugs and turns back to the city. “You got it.” She gives you a nod as she passes and you walk up to Dante.

He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “Don’t even start. I’m not going to run off and hide while you and my son try to deal with that thing. Besides,” You smirk at him. “This is a family matter, and I’m a part of the family. You said it yourself.”

He stares at you for a moment before throwing his head back with a laugh. “That I did!” He’s still chuckling as he starts running toward the distant statue. “Y’know, I’m starting to see why Vergil liked ya!”

You sigh and follow after him with a small smile.

Chapter Text

It happened. I finally did it.

I don't like writing Author's Notes in place of chapters, but I felt like it was necessary in this instance. My writer's block concerning this story has FINALLY lifted, and I am once more actively writing it. However, it is with a sad heart that I must announce the discontinuation of this version of the story. My writing style and quality have changed greatly over the years, and after reading this again, I'm honestly disappointed in the quality when I know I could have written it better. Having said that, I do have good news. The first chapter of the official rewrite for this story has been posted. It is listed as part one of the series that this is a part of, but I will also include a link below. For those of you who are fans of this version, don't worry. I have no intention of deleting it. Although I'm disappointed by it, it is still the first fic I ever posted on AO3 and will remain here for as long as AO3 exists.

Thank you all so much for supporting me and this story, and I truly hope that you will love the rewrite as much as you love this one.

LINK TO REWRITE