Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Had I not seen the Sun

I could have borne the shade

But Light a newer Wilderness

My Wilderness has made—

Emily Dickinson 

Nero was never particularly interested in literature, let alone poetry. So when Vergil left her with a book of poems, telling her to hold onto it until the next time they saw each other, Nero was confused, to say the least. 

Of course she could read. She read books plenty of times for entertainment or to help the kids fall asleep. Nero just never understood the point of literary analysis or flowery words but it never really bothered her. Poetry, however, annoyed her. She hated how the words were arranged, how a sentence made no sense or just sounded pretentious. It pissed her off so she never touched poetry. 

That was until her mother left her the book. A book of poems by William Blake with a large V marked on the front. The second gift, including the lily pin, her mother had given her in her entire life and it was a damn poetry book. 

Yet, Nero read it anyway. On the long trips in between jobs as they tried to clean up Redgrave City, she’d read the book while trying to survive Nico’s deadly driving. In the beginning, Nero understood nothing; Blake’s poems were just poems to her and she could never get the meaning behind them but that didn’t stop her from reading them. Sometimes she read them outloud for Nico whenever the van got too silent.

“But my rose turned away with jealousy, and her thorns were my only delight.” 

Nico took a drag of her cigarette, tendrils of smoke wafting in the van as she drove. “What’s that one?”

“ My Pretty Rose Tree.” Nero pulled her legs up in the seat, curling up as she leaned back. “I think it’s about love…the rose tree is a woman? Not sure.” 

“Can’t believe yer still readin’ that book mommy left you…” She puffed out another cloud of smoke, letting out a sigh. “Can’t believe it’s been a month already…” 

“Yeah…” Nero replied absentmindedly as she read over the words again, suddenly stopping with her eyes squinting. “What the hell…” 

Writing. It was small and neat, written to the side in straight lines. It was written in black ink, the handwriting elegantly fitting on the page as a square. 

‘I remember how Father brought Mother roses on her birthday. It wasn’t a large bouquet but a few simple red and white roses wrapped together in a plain sheet. Mother always loved them and put them up in the garden until they grew into rose bushes. I never understood why Father always gave her the same present every year until he disappeared. When there were no roses that year, I remember Mother being disappointed; now that I think about it, I may have heard her crying that night.’

‘Only now do I understand that the roses were a promise. From him that he’d always be there and always loved her no matter what and when he didn’t come with roses, she must’ve known he was gone.’ 

Nero tried to read the rest but it was scratched out neatly, only managing to read a little bit that was half heartedly cut over. 

‘ I miss you, Mother.’ 

She sighed, shutting the book. She felt invasive, reading into the thoughts that Vergil had written down but part of her wondered; was this the weakness she separated herself from? These memories, these emotions and thoughts? Was Nero in them? Was her father? 

“Yer bein’ real quiet over there…” Nico mumbled, turning to the left lane. “What, poetry finally broke your brain and you realised yer a dumbass?” 

“Shut up…” She muttered heatlessly as she traced over the V on the book cover. “I’m just thinking.” 

“Well, you can continue thinkin’ later.” The van came to a screeching halt, nearly throwing Nero off her seat. “We’re here.” 

Nero nodded, putting the book on the seat as she got up. Hopefully fighting some demons would take her mind off things or at the very atleast, distract her. 

Yet as she stepped off the van, revving up Red Queen’s engine, all she could think about was Vergil and the stupid book of poems.

“So.. Nero.”

Vergil killed the final demon, sheathing Yamato back in its saya before looking back at her twin with a blank stare. 

“Yes. She is my daughter.”

“And you were just gonna never say anything?”

“…we should keep going.”

“Wha– Don’t do that!” Dante ran up to her side, nudging her elbow slightly. “Come on! We’ve been down here for a month. I have no idea how much longer we’re gonna be down here so we might as well… you know, catch up.”

The last part left her more softly than Vergil had expected from Dante, causing her to slow her steps. How long had it been, really? Dante looked older too; crows feet were faintly forming around her eyes, her smile looking wearier with each day while the red dye in her hair from years ago had faded completely, leaving it in a messy silver bun. Even if they were half-demon, age was still affecting them regardless of whatever abilities they may have. 

“Maybe you could start by telling me about Nero’s dad. I’m really curious to know what type of guy managed to capture your heart you know….”

Dante giggled softly, shooting Vergil a grin which earned her an eye roll from her. But secretly, Vergil was…happy. Happy to be with her family again. 

I’m sure Dante would want to be your twin again. 

She wanted her sister back. She wanted to talk to her, duel with her and laugh with her again. She missed her twin sister and wanted to stay with her. 

Letting out a sigh, she gripped Yamato, avoiding Dante’s gaze as she walked ahead. 

“I’ll tell you as we walk. At least we won’t be wasting time that way.”

Dante chuckled lightly, walking beside Vergil. “I’ll take it. But I’m all ears.” 

Briefly meeting Dante’s eyes for a moment, she sighed as she began to speak, trying to sound as steady as she could. 

“It was before the Temen-Ni-Gru when I went to Fortuna. I’d heard of it from various sources and found myself intrigued; a whole religion dedicated to worshipping Sparda while condemning all of demonkind. So, I went there to research, to find out more about Fa— Sparda. That was when I met him.”

“Nero’s father?” 

“Rojo.” Her lips curved into a small smile. “I think…”

…He was the love of my life. 

Vergil remembered the first time she met Rojo. 

Usually Fortuna wasn’t very sunny but that day, the sun shone brightly, flooding the streets with its golden rays. Vergil had opted to spend the day in the library at Fortuna Castle, searching for more information about her whereabouts, the Saviour and the Order and since her social skills were… lacking… she figured the best place to start would be the library. 

It’d been a while since she’d visited a library and Fortuna’s was no exception. It was filled to the brim with books, shelves filled with leather bound tomes and gothic architecture — it felt oddly nostalgic. Few people roamed in between in the sections as Vergil began browsing the sections; history, non-fiction, religion, biographies and everything in between. 

Two hours sped by in a blink of an eye and Vergil had only managed to find a few books about Fortuna and Sparda; her progress was slower than she would’ve liked. She put away the book about the early history of Fortuna and got up again. Perhaps she’d missed something and needed to check again. 

I should revisit the history section… 

… where was it again… 

She walked around again, passing different categories and sections, suddenly stopping in her tracks. From far off, it caught her eye — a poetry anthology. Its golden embossing looked weathered from the years, the red leather cover slowly fading into a dusty brown; Vergil felt intrigued, to say the least. Perhaps she could spare a moment or two to read a few poems. 

Making up her mind, she headed towards the book. She hovered her hand above it, her fingers placed upon the leather spine until — 

“Oh–! I’m sorry–...” 

For a brief moment, her fingers brushed against someone else’s, meeting each other on the rough texture of the book cover. She looked up to see who else wanted her book, ice blue meeting deep amber as a chill went down her spine. Vergil may be a half demon but she was still just a teenager and he was undeniably handsome; messy brown hair framed his face perfectly, his height as tall as her own with a lanky build and kind eyes that looked deceivingly like kaleidoscopes. Or maybe the light was playing tricks on her eyes. The man had moved his hand away quickly, letting Vergil take the book with a warm smile on his face as she held it up, still staring at him rather dumbfoundedly. 

“I didn’t know anyone else here actually read poetry! Are you an avid reader?” 

Vergil’s mouth felt dry. Why couldn’t she speak? 

What. Is. This. 

Stop this. Stop, stop being distracted. You cannot afford to yourself be swayed by such… such… ludicrousness! This is a weakness, do not succumb to it.

His face is shaped like a heart…stop.

Stop staring. 

“No.” 

Is all Vergil managed to say before walking away as fast as her legs would carry her, leaving the man confused. Once she was away from him, she took a deep breath, holding the book close to her chest. It was a rare moment of weakness, that’s all it was. Hopefully, she would never have to encounter that man again and would never let herself be pathetic like that ever again. 

“Ptttfff…HAHAHAHA— HOLD ON—” 

“It’s not funny.” Vergil felt her cheeks burn up with embarrassment. “I wasn’t sure how to react. I…I did what I thought was a reasonable response.” 

“You ran away from the guy! That’s far from a reasonable response , oh my god…” Dante continued to wheeze as Vergil only waited for her to calm down, her expression cold but face bright red. “H-How did you manage to even talk to him?!” 

“I didn’t.” Vergil replied smoothly, slicing away at the vines blocking their path, Dante following her from behind with a confused noise. 

“Then…how did you have Nero?!” Dante rubbed the back of her neck, staring at her older sister. 

“If you’d let me finish. ” She hissed at her, sheathing Yamato. “You are so impatient. I have barely started telling you anything and you’re already interrupting me.” Vergil shook her head, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Keep up because I am not going to repeat myself.” 

“Geez, okay, okay…” Dante scoffed, mumbling something along the lines of ‘ grumpy old woman…’ before catching up to her sister. “I’m listening. No interruptions. Just occasional comments.”

“As I was saying… I didn’t talk to him face to face immediately. Rather, we started talking in an unconventional way, through the poetry book.”

“Huh? I don’t get it.”

“I’m getting to it.” Vergil narrowed her eyes at her, continuing to speak. “In the poetry book we both reached for, he had jotted down annotations and had written his own comments and analysis. In particular, the most well-loved poem was, ‘Had I Not Seen The Sun’ by Emily Dickinson, where he’d written down his comments so I wrote my own in response to his and well…”

Vergil felt herself slightly smile again.

“That’s how we started talking.” 

The first thing Vergil noticed on ‘Had I Not Seen The Sun’ was scribbles. To be more exact; anecdotes and annotations. Analysis about the poem, thoughts and comments that descended into rambling. The handwriting was flowy and cursive, a complete opposite to her own with everything written down in a red pen. 

‘The sun is a shining light of hope in this story. Could Dickison possibly be trying to relate the sun to her love that she felt for Sue, claiming that Sue is the sun in this scenario? - R’

Vergil raised her eyebrow, looking for her own pen. She’d never really given much thought to Emily Dickison before but she had her own thoughts about the poem, uncapping the dark blue pen she found in her motel room, curling up in the armchair as she wrote.

‘Had I Not Seen the Sun ', the title implies that the sun saved her life. Perhaps you’re right, it may be about her love but I believe it’s about breaking free of one’s old self, or growing out of the darkness. The line, ‘I could have been borne the shade’ connects to the idea of opening up your eyes, or stepping out of the comfort of the ‘shade’ if you will. - V’

Vergil sighed as she stopped writing, reading the rest of his annotations. He wrote a lot for such a short poem, commenting on the line length, symbolism and tone; Vergil was mildly impressed at how much he wrote, noting his analysis extended to some of the other poems in the book as well. 

Yet as she continued to read, she noticed some comments had nothing to do with the poems and were more so about his thoughts. Curious, she let herself read the one jotted down on ‘Had I Not Seen the Sun’. 

‘ I wonder if I’ll ever be able to experience my own sun. Everyone says that the Saviour guides toward the right path but I don’t think that’s true. How could anyone else know what the right path is for me? Isn’t that something I decide for myself? …Can’t do anything about it as long as I’m in Fortuna. - R’ 

Vergil stilled for a second, gripping the pen in her hand tightly. She shouldn’t be reading someone’s innermost thoughts, especially if that someone wrote them in a book that no one else seemingly read, it was wrong and she was invading his privacy. 

‘What is the path that you want to follow? - V’

Capping the pen, she sighed as she tossed the book on her bed. She didn’t care about him, she didn’t care about humans or their wishes or their desires or their innermost thoughts. All Vergil needed was power. She only needed to continue her research on Sparda and Fortuna.

The very next day, she placed the book back on the shelf and returned to browsing the history section for the rest of the day. She did not care if that man returned to take the book, she had more important things to focus on, she told herself, opening up a book titled the ‘ Heroic Deeds of the Dark Knight.’ . She scoffed upon the title, flipping open the pages; humans really did love to paint tall tales, even so much as creating false stories about Sparda, creating a distortion between fiction and reality. 

It was ridiculous. Absolutely, utterly, ridiculous. 

Golden rays shone through the library’s overarching windows as Vergil looked up from her book, rubbing her eyes; outside, the sun was setting in the horizon with the light glittering upon the sea like diamonds. Fortuna’s beach was beautiful but unused, its white sand rolled out in small dunes as the azure water washed up seaweed and crabs with no sign of human interference on the shore. It was a pleasant beach but Fortuna’s residents seemed more concerned with their conservative lifestyle rather than leisure. 

She mentally noted the page she was on before shutting it, placing it back on the shelf. As she got ready to leave, her mind wandered back to that man; everyone in Fortuna wore a cowl on their head out of respect for the Savior but he didn’t. He’d been walking around freely with his face uncovered ; perhaps that’s why Vergil was so caught off guard by him in the first place as well. 

Not that it mattered as she wouldn’t be seeing or thinking about him any longer. 

She passed the literature section on her way out, briefly pausing to see if the book had been taken and it had. Right where the reddish brown leather had been was now a gap between its neighbours. Vergil quickly walked away, trying not to think about the man, the book or anything so frivolous. 

The book was returned the next day when she arrived, dust particles dancing around in the light where she stood in-front of the shelf. She swore she felt amber eyes meeting with hers momentarily before vanishing, the pink blush on her cheek betraying her when she tried to tell herself it didn’t mean anything. Against her better judgement, she grabbed the book off the shelf before scurrying towards her usual spot for the rest of the day. She didn’t care, no she really didn’t. She just wanted to keep reading poems. 

‘The path I want to follow? That’s a bit hard to say. I want to be free and explore the world, I want to love with my full heart and see what fate has in store for me. Hah, I guess you’d say I’d follow the path of an adventurer! Sadly, there’s not a lot of adventuring to do on Fortuna. What about you? What path did you follow that brought you here? - R’ 

She brushed her fingers above the newly written words, feeling her breath leave her shakily. Vergil didn’t think he’d actually respond properly. Reasonably, she knew she shouldn’t write back; it would damage the book after all. But she grabbed the pen anyway, writing down her response below his. 

‘Power. The power to protect myself and survive. That’s it. The path I follow is…’

‘Lonely. I feel lonely. -V’

She wasn’t sure why she was spilling her heart out to some random stranger over a poetry book. Or maybe for so long, nobody had asked Vergil about her. Because this stranger was lonely too. And something about writing it down rather than saying it out loud made it so much easier for her to admit it. 

Before she left, she placed the book back on the shelf, silently noting the tuft of brown hair trying to hide from her line of sight. It was…ridiculous. It was utterly absolutely ridiculous that she was even engaging in this. 

Yet, she continued. It became an everyday occurrence, to find the book, write down her reply and wait for his. The poems in the book became witness to their conversations that were never spoken, only exchanged in red and blue pen. 

‘I get that. I’m lonely too. But back to what you said… survival is great and all but have you ever thought of what you want beyond that? - R’

‘...Not really. I’ve been alone for a long time. Admittedly, I have no clue of what I’d want to do other than survive and get stronger. I think I’d… want to go to university and study classical literature. A rather lackluster goal that’s still unachievable for me. - V’ 

‘Why does it have to be? - R’ 

‘I could ask you the same thing. - V’ 

Two weeks passed and the two continued their exchanges without ever saying a word to each other. Vergil had fallen into a comfortable routine of talking to him through the book, never needing to interact with him face to face while she continued her research on Sparda and Fortuna. She thought to ask him about Fortuna but decided against it, seeing how he disliked the Order of the Sword and the Saviour worshipping. 

‘Where are you from? - R’

‘My home was originally Redgrave City. Now, I’m simply a traveller. -V’ 

‘A traveller, huh? Have you ever seen anything interesting on your travels? - R’ 

‘..No. I never had the time to stop and look at anything. I was too busy. - V’ 

‘That’s a shame. There’s a lot of fascinating things to see. For instance, whenever I feel creatively blocked, I go to the beach. There’s something so calming about the salty scent and crashing waves. You should go sometime when you’re free. - R’ 

‘Okay. I’ll keep it in mind. - V’ 

And part of her didn’t want to ruin what they had. She looked forward to seeing what he’d written and responding to his analysis on whatever poem they were both reading at the time. She told herself it was a rare distraction. A rare moment of weakness. That’s all it was. Once she’d get the information she needed, she’d leave Fortuna and never think about the man again. 

Unfortunately, Vergil was a fool. 

“Here you go.” 

Vergil nearly jumped out of her seat before looking up to see who exactly had intruded her space. To her surprise, it was him. He stood by her book filled table, holding out the poetry book for her to take with a soft smile on his face. It was the first time he approached her ever since she ran away from him that day. Shaking out of her shock, she accepted the book with a quiet thank you , placing it in her lap, away from the other stacks of books on her table. She expected him to leave after giving her the book but he lingered instead, looking around the books on her table and picking up the nearest one while flipping through the contents. 

Vergil watched him from the corner of her eye, mentally taking in details she hadn’t noticed before; his fingertips were covered in ink and paint, most likely acrylic, his right hand was bandaged; he mentioned how he’d burned his hand earlier while pouring himself a cup of tea. He had freckles scattered around his arms and face like stars in the sky and his clothes also suffered from being covered in paint stains. He’d mentioned he was a painter and Vergil would be lying if she said she wasn’t even slightly curious about his work. 

“Whoa, you seem really interested in the Dark Knight, huh?” 

“Hm?” His voice broke her train of thought, meeting with his gaze. “Yes, I.. I find the tale fascinating. I think he was a very powerful individual and I’d never imagine there’d be a whole religion dedicated to him.” 

“Hmm… true enough. Though, if you ask me, it’s kind of silly. I mean…would Sparda even want to be worshipped?” 

Probably not. 

“I don’t know about that….” Vergil mumbled returning to her book. Why was he still talking to her? Was he going to keep talking to her? Why would he do that? 

“By the way…you never told me your name.” 

Oh. That’s right. 

Vergil looked up from the book, tightly gripping the pages as she met his eyes again. She shouldn’t tell him her name, she shouldn’t even be talking to him. She was treading a very dangerous line in her mind but when she stared at his eyes again, something in her melted. 

“Vergil. My name is Vergil.” 

“Vergil.” He repeated it in a hushed whisper, a smile forming on his face. “A beautiful name.”

She felt herself blushing, trying to stop herself from smiling — why did he have to be so smooth?! 

“I’m Rojo. Nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise…” Oh no. Vergil wished he hadn’t told her his name. It was easier to not think about him when she’d mentally had him listed as R in her mind but putting a name to his face? Putting a name to the man who talked with her about his dreams, goals and their shared love of poetry made it harder to abandon him. 

But she didn’t want to abandon him. 

“Do you like pasta?” 

“What?” 

“I’m making this pasta dish for dinner and you mentioned that you don’t get to eat properly when you leave the library so…do you want to come over and have some dinner?” 

Vergil blinked again, her cheeks burning red again. He remembered that? She’d only mentioned it as a one-off detail while answering him about something related to their sleep schedules. He…kept it in mind. 

“I don’t mind.” She mumbled again, burying her face in her book but she could imagine the smile on his face. “I just need to clean up..” 

“I’ll help.” 

She didn’t have the heart to tell him no. They worked on putting away the books in silence before heading out for his home. As they walked through the streets of Fortuna, the sun dipped down behind them, shades of blue and purple creating a gradient above their heads while around them people quietly whispered about under their cowls, sharing glances and mutterings. Yet, neither of them said anything as they continued to walk in a comfortable silence beside each other, the poetry book left behind in the library for that night. 

“You both sound like you were massive nerds. A first date at his house?! Absolutely scandalous.” Dante grinned, avoiding her twin’s strike. “You missed.” 

“Is that right?” Vergil smirked a bit, the spectral clone striking her from behind. Dante yelped in surprise, jumping away in a split second before the clone could land a blow on her while Vergil stood to the side with her arms crossed. “Carelessness.” 

Dante glared at her from the side, standing up from the corner she dodged into with an eyeroll. “You’ve always been so dramatic, jeez…” 

“I am not dramatic. You are simply too foolish.” 

“Whatever. Are you going to continue the story or not?” 

“Later.” Vergil’s eyes flashed to the side as she drew Yamato from its saya, immediately slicing through Hell Antenora who tried to attack from behind. “We’ve got company.” 

Dante drew Ebony and Ivory with a grin, lunging towards the herd of blood-goyles before shocking them to stone and breaking them with her devil sword. She jumped over the herd of them while firing a rain of bullets at the gathering demons, landing behind Vergil’s back, chuckling a bit. 

“Hey, you gotta also tell me about your dates!” 

“Then let’s get this over with.” Vergil hissed, cutting through another Hell Antenora effortlessly as they both covered each other against the wave of demons. 

As they cut through the hordes of lower-class demons, spilling dark demon blood all over, Vergil couldn’t help but look over at her sister and smile; they were finally back together. 

Nero yawned as she rubbed her eyes, feeling the dawnlight obstruct her view while she stirred from sleep. Nico drove the van slower than usual, her cigarette nearly at its end. The job had taken longer than they’d both anticipated with Nero finishing up the last of the demons at 3:30 am before returning to the van. With a soft groan, she glanced at the digital clock above the radio, letting her head fall back on the carseat. 5:50. Only 2 hours of sleep. 

“Yer not lookin’ so hot…” Nico looked over at her, stopping in-front of a red light. “Let’s take a break, go back to Kyrie n’ the kids. Lady and Trish can take over for a while.” 

Nero looked over at Nico with an exasperated sigh. As much as she hated to admit it, Nico was right; neither of them had decent sleep or a meal in a while and Nero was missing Kyrie terribly. A month without seeing her felt like a dragged out year and Nero was exhausted. She just wanted to hold her girlfriend. 

“Kay…” Nero yawned, stretching out her arms before flopping back on the seat. “Call them first though, let them know we’re gonna be gone for a bit.” 

“Yessir…” Nico muttered, turning to the right side before stopping by a gas station. “Ya need anything? Drinks, food…” She sniffed her armpits for a second before backing away with a disgusted look on her face. “I’m gettin’ deodorant…” 

“Yeah, yeah…get me some too…” 

Nico left the van to fill the gas, leaving Nero in the passenger seat. Her clothes were crumpled and her eyebags were getting deeper but it felt stupid to worry over such trivial things when so many demons were still roaming around Redgrave. 

But.. holy fuck, I’m tired. 

The poetry book lay in her lap, as it always did. She kept it close to her and ever since she started finding out about the anecdotes, she found herself reading it more. Nero opened the book, hoping for a distraction or another hint as she flipped through the pages. As she went through the pages, her hand suddenly stopped, pausing over the words written. 

It was The Clod and The Pebble , one of the shorter poems in the book. But what caught her eye was the text written beside the verses in the same handwriting, her eyes slightly widening as she read it. 

15th May — Met Rojo for the first time on this day. I miss you, my love. 

Chapter Text

A glimpse through an interstice caught,

Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove late of a winter night, and I unremark’d seated in a corner,

Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand,

A long while amid the noises of coming and going, of drinking and oath and smutty jest,

There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word.

Walt Whitman 

Nero stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, her brain overflowing with thoughts. She could hear Kyrie’s soft breathing beside her, the sky outside still dark with the sounds of crickets quietly chirping in the night like orchestra being the only sound occupying the silence in her brain. 

She was happy to be back home, unable to get her clingy hands off Kyrie for the first day she came back. She missed Kyle and Julio equally, spending the rest of her second day playing with them and promising to take them on a picnic later with Kyrie and Nico. Nero was happy to be home, looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed at a proper time with a belly full of her girlfriend's amazing cooking. 

Yet, she found herself wide awake at 1 am, staring in the darkness instead of getting some proper sleep. Mainly because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what she read in the book. 

Rojo. Was that her father? Was he the one that Vergil loved enough to have a child with? What was he like? What was his job? Was Nero like him? 

Too many questions burned her mind. Too many thoughts made her restless. Maybe if she dug around the city records, she could find something, anything. 

“Nero… you’re still awake?” 

Kyrie’s soft voice cut through the muddle in her mind, her arm wrapping around Nero’s body as she pulled her in close. For a split second, Nero jumped but instantly calmed down before leaning into Kyrie’s hold, burying her face in the crook of her neck with a sigh. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you up..”

 “No, don’t worry.” She ran her fingers through strands of white hair, meeting Nero’s gaze. “I noticed you were a bit spaced out at dinner…” 

“That obvious, huh?” 

“I think Nico and the kids were too busy scarfing down on the pie to notice…” 

“Well, your pie is really good.”

Kyrie smiled, pressing a soft kiss on her cheek before meeting her eyes again, the two of them looking at each other with their heads on the same pillow.

“I know I can’t relate to the demon hunting part of your life but I want you to still tell me if there’s something wrong or if there’s something going on in your life.” 

“I know. I just don't want to stress you out.” 

“Nero.” Kyrie sat up a bit, flicking a finger on her forehead, earning an ow! from her. “We’re partners. We’re supposed to rely on each other especially if it stresses me out.”

Nero frowned, rubbing her forehead where Kyrie hit her before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry.” 

“Good.” Pleased with her answer, she kissed the top of her forehead before falling back in the sheets beside her. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.” 

“..Remember I told you that my mom left me a poetry book before going with Dante?” 

“Yes. William Blake.” 

“Mhm. Well, I was reading some of the poems and I noticed that there were some… notes. I think she wrote them…when she was V.” 

“And in one of the notes…she mentioned a name. Rojo.” 

“Kyrie..” Nero looked over at her, her voice slightly shaky as she spoke. “What if that’s my dad?” 

“Nero…”

“She called him ‘my love’. That has to be my dad, Kyrie. He lived here, in Fortuna. I—” 

“Nero.” Kyrie interrupted her, placing a hand on her cheek, the pad of her thumb brushing against the rough skin of her cheek. “Is this what’s been bothering you?” 

“...Maybe.” 

“I thought that maybe I could find some record of his existence here but, I don’t know, I don’t..”

“Want to be disappointed?” 

“That and I’m…kind of mad at my mom for just leaving before I could even ask her any questions. Like, fuck, you see your daughter after twenty something years and give her a goddamn poetry book before going to do some gardening in Hell.” Nero scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, going back to the ceiling. “Some A-class parenting right there…” 

“Sometimes I just… wonder if she even loved me.”

“...I’m sorry you’re going through all this.” 

“Not your fault I have a mother who tried to become the Queen of the Underworld…” Nero muttered, pulling Kyrie into her hold. “Still, thanks for listening. Even if you don’t get it.” 

“Especially when I don’t get it.” Kyrie laughed softly, leaning back into Nero’s arms. “And we can go look for the records tomorrow. We’ll go together before the picnic.” 

Nero’s eyes widened for a moment before she broke out in a small smile, her eyes finally closing as she let out a yawn. 

“Mhm.. thanks…”

“Goodnight Nero.” 

Nero mumbled a soft goodnight, kissing her forehead before feeling her own eyes shut. Before she knew it, sleep had washed over her like a tidal wave and after weeks of sleeping in the van, she was snoring away peacefully in the comforts of her bed with her partner by her side. 

“You know what I’d kill for right now?” 

Vergil looked over at her twin with her eyebrow raised, half-expecting her answer. “What?”

“Pizza. And strawberry sundae. A strawberry sundae with strawberry syrup and double strawberries. And oh god. A burger. I want a cheeseburger. They should really consider opening a diner down here, might liven the place up.” 

“...So, you’re hungry, basically?” 

“No, I’m just bored of eating demon flesh to survive.” Dante sighed, shooting at the roots that tried to hit them before yawning, stretching her arms out. “‘m kinda exhausted too…never thought I'd ever say that..” 

Vergil was admittedly a bit tired too. Their movements were getting slower with each battle and cutting down Qilpoth was proving to be a mammoth of a task, even for the two of them. Demon hybrids they were, they were still part human and their human bodies had managed to make it farther than the average human would have. 

That didn’t mean they didn’t get tired. 

“Let’s take a break somewhere and rest.” 

Dante looked at her suspiciously, side-eyeing her sister before letting out a snort, shrugging. 

“Okay, let’s find a place to rest then. Come on, I think I saw some place back there with enough space to sit and lay down.” 

Vergil nodded, following her from behind with an odd quietness lingering in the air. Once they both sat down, Vergil laid back against the cold hard surface, gripping Yamato in one hand tightly while Dante yawned, lying down beside her with half-lidded eyes. 

“I miss my bed…” Dante grumbled, shifting her body around to a more comfortable position. 

“Mhm…” Vergil stared at the ceiling above them in silence, folding her hands across her torso, almost corpse like. Underneath, the cold hard ground felt like ice, the chilly sensation creeping behind her neck as she laid beside her twin, eyes wide open.

She couldn’t sleep. Perhaps she wasn’t used to sleeping. The exhaustion in her body remained yet sleep eluded her, leaving her to silently stare at the emptiness above them. Beside her, Dante kept groaning and moving around before giving up and bumping her head next to Vergil’s with a sigh. For a moment, Vergil bristled at the touch but let herself accept it, moving in slightly closer while maintaining her own level of distance. 

“I forgot how boring Hell gets.” 

“You were here before?” 

“To defeat Argosax, yeah. It was…”

After Mallet Island. 

Neither of them spoke, letting the sentence hang in the air. Vergil felt Dante’s shoulders tense slightly, her expression changing into something more withdrawn; Mallet Island had been traumatizing for both of them but neither of them were ready to unpack that. Not yet. Not when they’d just found each other again. Vergil didn’t want to lose her again. 

“Could you tell me about Nero?” Vergil spoke softly, hoping to ease her sister up. “I’ve been rather curious about what she’s been up to and how she’s grown. I…” 

I’ve missed her. 

Dante’s expression softened, meeting Vergil’s eyes with a soft smile. Vergil knew there were some conversations that they couldn’t avoid, not forever. But not when they were stuck in Hell, cutting down the roots of a demonic tree she tried to raise. Later. Later, Vergil promised she would. 

“Nero’s a tough kid. She’s got a lot of heart and she’s a stubborn pain in the ass.” Dante snorted, letting out a soft sigh. “She reminds me of you a lot. You’re both equally strong-willed and stubborn. Not to mention, you both have a raging temper.”

Vergil scoffed, rolling her eyes at her. “I don’t have a temper.” 

“Oh yes you do. It’s not as visibly explosive as Nero but when you get mad, oh, it’s literally a brand of its own.” 

“Hmph. Tell me more. How did you meet her?” 

“Started when I heard about the Order of the Sword from Lady. Then I went to Fortuna to investigate more and when I killed Sanctus, that’s the first time I saw her.” 

“It was like fucking whiplash . At first I thought it was you but nah, too young. She had her hair in a braid like you do,” Dante nodded at Vergil’s tightly put together braid. “But looser and she looked a bit scrappy… plus her being covered with freckles also differentiated you two enough.”

“Is that so..” 

“She stabbed me with Rebellion the first time.” Dante grinned widely, looking up at her older sister. “And then the whole thing with her devil bringer also had me wondering about a few things but I wasn’t sure.” 

“But I was sure when I saw the way Yamato reacted to her. It confirmed everything for me.” 

Vergil said nothing, letting Dante continue in the background about the Order of the Sword, the strange statue and man-made doomsday while her mind wandered. She briefly thought back to when she took Yamato back from Nero — she hadn’t known, she hadn’t known that it was the daughter she left years ago that was holding onto Yamato and taking care of it. 

She still remembered the panic attack she had in the hospital when she was V and saw Nero for the first time. Guilt weighed heavy upon her as she tried to justify it, justify what she’d done to her own child. 

God, she was a monster. 

“Verge? Are you okay?” 

Vergil broke out of her train of thought, sighing as she shook her head. 

“I’m alright. I’m just thinking about Nero. She sounds like she takes after her father.” 

“Rojo…he was an artist, right?” 

“Yes.” Vergil comfortably laid back, letting her rest her head against Dante’s, albeit with slight reluctance. “He painted portraits and ceilings for the Order and took commissions from the townspeople as well. In fact, that was the only reason why they even tolerated him, even if he wasn’t a follower or very religious.”

“Oh?” 

“Yes. His lifestyle was… different to say the least.” 

Rojo’s house was located far away from the other homes, distanced from the city while staying on the outskirts of the forest. It was a nice two story building with three bedrooms and a basement, a balcony even jutting out from the second floor that was filled with green vines. When he brought her home for the first time, Vergil immediately noted how far his home and the library were, at least a good 40 to 50 minutes of travel in-between each location. 

“Why do you walk to the library every single day? Wouldn’t it be easier for you to purchase the books you want and read them from the comforts of your home?” 

Vergil had been walking back home almost everyday at that point, two months of them spending time together talking, eating dinners together or exploring the island. There was something more beneath the smiles and lingering looks that neither of them wanted to address. Moreso Vergil was afraid to; afraid to admit she was getting attached, afraid to admit that she wanted to stay with him and see what type of life she could have. 

“Uhh…” Rojo stopped pouring hot water into the cups, looking back at her with a shrug. “I enjoy the exercise. Plus, I get a lot of work done along the way… so, I don’t mind the walk.” 

Liar.

But she didn’t push him further. After all, she was just a stranger to him. A stranger who came home with him almost everyday, ate dinner with him and spent most of her time after dinner talking to him or just sitting in silence with a cup of tea while he sketched away in his book. A stranger whom she felt comfortable enough to walk around with and occasionally rest her head upon whenever she was tired, a stranger who she wanted to stay with. 

They were just strangers. And once he knew about her, she’d have to leave. 

“Here, I added extra honey for you.” 

Rojo handed her a mug — her mug — with a smile, Vergil quietly mumbling a ‘thank you’ before heading for the lounge. Her mug was a soft shade of blue with white flowers painted on the ceramic and something that was hers. Every time they sat down to have tea late at night before she left, he always served her tea in that mug, as though she lived there with him, belonged in the house with him. He had even started buying different flavours of tea for her and always remembered to add extra honey. For the first time in a long time, Vergil felt wanted. 

She smiled to herself, letting her cheeks tint pink as she walked over to the couch, settling down between the cushions comfortably. Setting her mug down, she undid her braid and let her hair free from its usual constraints, placing the band around her wrist for later; another thing she’d gotten used to doing was letting her hair down around him. Only because he mentioned one time she looked good so she kept doing it. Not that she cared about his opinion. 

Leaning back in the cushions, she stared at the painting hanging above his fireplace before noticing the sketchbook left open on the table. Part of her had been desperately curious to see what he drew every single night but had been too afraid to ask. 

She looked up to see if he was near and much to her relief, he was still in the kitchen. Cautiously, she picked up the book, carefully going through the first few pages. The sketches at the beginning of the book were mainly random objects or people he might’ve noticed in the town doing mundane activities. She continued going through it but suddenly stopped, eyes widening slightly. The rest of the sketches in the book were her. 

Her reading, her smiling, her from different perspectives, just multiple sketches of Vergil doing anything. At that exact moment, Rojo stepped out of the kitchen with his own mug. 

“I found some cake— oh. Oh no…” 

She looked up from the book at him, her expression and mind empty. Why was he drawing her so much? Why was every single sketch detailed and made with such love? …Is that how he saw her? Rojo’s own face was turning into shades of red that she didn’t know were humanely possible, his voice sputtering out of him. 

“I– You– I’m sorry.”

Sheepishly, he stared down at his tea, his cheeks still bright red while Vergil moved closer, the sketchbook still in hand. 

“Why are you sorry?” 

“I…” Hesitantly, he looked up from his tea, meeting her ice blue gaze before letting out a shaky sigh. “I don’t know, I…”

“Do.. you really see me like this?” 

Rojo blushed intensely, never looking away from her. Vergil felt her own cheeks heat up as she closed the book, bringing her face closer to his until their breaths mingled; what was she doing? She should’ve stopped, she should’ve moved away and left, erasing him from her memory forever. 

But she didn’t. 

“Yes.” His voice came out in a mumble, whispered into her ears. “But a pen and paper could never capture how I see you. How I… how I think of you.” 

Vergil didn’t think. Her brain shut off as she pressed her lips onto his. It was… awkward; she didn’t know where to move and what to do and he was holding a mug in his hands while hers were still holding onto the book. But he kissed back, albeit with the same awkwardness as her before pulling away with a smile on his face, cheeks dusted pink. 

Vergil on the other hand was furiously embarrassed. Why, why, oh why, did she do that?! She shouldn’t have done that yet her own mind betrayed her. While she mentally spiralled, Rojo set his mug down on one of the side tables, gently tugging the sketchbook out of her hands before meeting her eyes with a soft smile.

“You… uh…want to stay over tonight?” 

“Yes.” 

The answer had come out of her so easily. Why? 

He smiled at her again, making her feel warm all over. But it wasn’t real, none of it was. She had to tell him the truth. 

“Rojo, wait. I have to tell you something. About why I came to Fortuna, the real reason.” 

Rojo stopped in his tracks towards the kitchen turning back to face her with a confused expression on his face. 

“What’s wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong…” She sighed deeply, avoiding his gaze — she couldn’t look at him directly, not if she wanted to be truthful. “I came to Fortuna to find out about Sparda because he is my father.”

She dared not look up, continuing to speak despite the thick air of the house. 

“My father sealed a gate to the Underworld and I’ve been looking for ways to break the seal. I heard that he spent some time here in Fortuna, ruling over the island for a short period of time so I thought I could find something here but—”

“Why are you trying to break the seal to the Underworld?” 

A question. There was no real anger or any heat behind the question; just plain curiosity. 

“I… I told you, I need power, I need strength so that I can be strong enough to protect myself. So I won’t ever be weak again and…” 

And… 

“But you’re lonely.”

Vergil said nothing as she stared at the floor, her hair covering her face from his eyes. She wanted to run away, she should leave and never return— 

A pair of arms suddenly enveloped her, pulling her into a gentle warmth. Rojo was hugging her, burying his head in her hair as Vergil felt herself slightly shake, frozen in spot until he whispered to her softly: 

“I’ll protect you. Promise.” 

“I…What…?” Vergil stayed frozen in her spot, her eyes wide like an owl's. “Are you not upset? Or even angry?”

“Maybe.” He mumbled from her hair, still holding onto her. “But you’re scared, Vergil. It’s okay to be scared but you’re not alone, not anymore. I got you.”

Vergil cried. The last time she cried was when she was a scared eight year old and  the demons attacked her and never again after that. She buried her face in his shoulder as tears stained her cheeks, letting herself sniffle a bit as he held onto her. 

“I got you.” 

Safe. She felt safe. She felt loved. 

She pulled away from him, trying to compose herself, wiping her face with her sleeves. Rojo offered her a tissue box from the nearby table, pushing back the strands of white hair that stuck to her face, chuckling softly. 

“Even like this, you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” 

Vergil was torn between her recovering sniffles and red face, saying nothing to him while he kept on fixing her hair. Silence occupied the space between, looks exchanged between them before they pressed together for another kiss, a slow gentleness to it that wasn’t there before mixing in. It lingered for a while, their fingers unconsciously finding each other and interlocking together as they smiled at each other. 

Vergil only wished she could live in the moment forever. 

“Verge? Vergil?” 

“Huh?” 

Oh. Right. 

“You zoned out for a while there, drifted off when you started talking about him.” 

“Yes, well..” Vergil cleared her throat, avoiding Dante’s gaze. “I believe I’m rather exhausted. I might rest for a while, if you don’t mind.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep watch.” She patted Vergil’s shoulder, slowly rising up from the floor before cracking her back with a sigh of relief. “Just lemme know when you're up again.”

Vergil grunted in response, curling up with Yamato in hand as she slowly drifted to sleep, memories like sweet honey flooding her mind as she started to snore softly. 

Vergil yawned, rolling around in bed with a soft grumble. The curtain covered the sunlight from breaking in but little bits of it crept through the gaps and onto her. It was peaceful, perfectly calm and quiet until the curtains drew open, a cheerful voice cutting through the sleepiness in Vergil’s mind. 

“Good morning!” 

Light flooded the room like a rushing river, the figure of a man creating a shadow as Vergil only groaned in response. The man let out a soft chuckle, joining the sleeping mass of silver hair on the bed. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before wrapping her arm around her, bringing her closer, feeling Vergil relax into the touch. 

“Rojo…” 

“Mhm?” He rested his chin on her shoulder, hugging her closer. “Don’t you usually wake up earlier than me? What’s with the sleeping in? It’s very unlike you…” 

“Hmmm.” She mumbled, turning around to meet Rojo’s gaze. His eyes were a soft shade of amber, a brightness in them that drew Vergil in easily. “I just wanted to sleep longer. Is there something wrong with that?”

“Of course not mi cielito . There’s nothing wrong with that.” He retracted his hand from her waist, bringing it up to push back the bangs obstructing her face. “Just different from what you usually do.”

“Mhm..” 

She only hummed in response, burying her face in the crook of his neck. He took that as a sign to stay quiet as well, starting to mindlessly card through her hair while her soft breath tickled his neck. 

It was perfect. Rojo’s gentle touch caressing her as she melted into his hold, the sunlight bathing his hair from behind like a golden halo with the sound of the birds singing outside. Vergil sighed softly, letting herself smile faintly.

Nero stifled a yawn as she searched through the filing cabinets, feeling the dust between each file between her nails. Kyrie sat on the table behind her, reading through a separate pile before throwing them down with a cough, waving the dust out of the air.

“They really should maintain this place better! How is anyone supposed to find anything if half of it is covered with cobwebs and dust bunnies..” 

Nero nodded, coughing a bit as well upon opening another drawer. 

“Could’ve spent less time on the fucking statue and a bit more cleanin’ this place…” She mumbled under her breath, picking through each file again. 

Nothing. She felt her frustration grow, kicking the drawer back into the cabinet with a snarl which only released more dust in the air, making both of them cough violently.

“Nero!” 

“Ah, fuck…” She sighed, staring at the cabinet again. “Sorry…let’s just go, enjoy the picnic. This was stupid.” 

“It was not stupid.” Kyrie placed a hand on her shoulder, looking around at the mess of the records room. “It’s their fault this place is so poorly organised. I’m sure if we keep looking, we’ll find something.” 

“No, Kyrie, no–” Nero shook her head, moving over to the table of messy files. “There’s nothing here. Let’s just go home.” 

Kyrie said nothing, retracting her hand from her shoulder. She moved to pick up some files and papers that were laying on the floor as a result of their search, placing them on the table beside Nero before pausing for a moment at one of the files staring at the tab in shock. 

“Nero.” She spoke quietly, handing him the brown folder. “I found it.” 

Nero looked up at her in silent shock for a full minute, staring at the folder and back at her. Shakily, she took the folder from her hands to open the contents, feeling her eyes sting from the dust as she read it outloud. 

“Rojo Perez. Kyrie, that’s his name, that’s his full name, I–”

“What else does it say?” 

“...Deceased.” 

Nero looked up from the folder, tears glazing over her eyes. Kyrie moved closer, wrapping her arms around her as she stared at the documents below her, her voice slightly cracking. 

“Kyrie…Kyrie…” 

“I know. I know.” 

Neither of them spoke a word after that, Nero’s tears threatening to spill out as she could only mindlessly read the same sentence on the death certificate over and over again, barely holding onto Kyrie. 

Cause of death : Demon attack.