Title: In the Dictates of Conscience
Rating: R
Fandom: Devil May Cry (AU)
Pairing: Dante/ Virgil, Eva/Sparda
Warnings: Slash/ Yaoi, Incest, Heavy religious talk (both pro and negative)
Summary: "Can we be forgiven Mother? Can even such as I, cursed from the moment of birth by the unholy union of unclean demon and innocent mortal, partake in the Glorious kingdom of God?' DantexVirgil
A/N: What can I say about this other than it was written late at night? If you dislike religion/ forms of religion do not read this, as I guess parts are pretty theology intensive.
Explanatory notes:
Father when referred to with a Capital F means God, a lower case father, is Virgil's actual father Sparda.
Mother when referred to with a Capital M means the Virgin Mary, and m is Eva (Virgil's mother.)
Christian religion is mostly based on the fact that God was made incarnate in the Virgin Mary (i.e. Mary gave birth to God in the form of a man,) who then chose to die on a cross, to redeem the worlds sins. In other words, God forgave sins because his Son in the form of a man gave up his life.
"Virgil?" said the quiet voice at the entrance to the cathedral. The figure in front of him neither moved nor gave any indication of awareness as to the new presence in the room. It was kneeling in front of an altar, not the main altar, but one of the subsidary little alcoves around the cathedral. This one was dedicated to the Immaculate Mary. The stone statue of the Virgin Mother, was carved, hands apart, eyes upwards, interceding with heaven for the sinners and the fallen. Her feet trod on the snakes, that represented sin, and her beauty was almost more than mortal. Her blue robe, shimmered in the soft candlelight that was the only illumination, seeming almost to move, the folds to fall in different ways. There was a timelessness about her, a pureness that came from no absolution, but was given by the aura of sinlessness. Before her knelt Virgil, head buried in his hands, shoulders shaking from silent sobs. His murmured gasps of despair, were muffled by his black coat, from which only snatches and fragments of words could emerge. "Mother forgive me this most grievous sin... I beg of thee steal my memories, send me forth into the world as a newborn babe, pure and innocent... Mother intercede for me with mine Father."
He raised his head, silver hair dishevelled and clumped, red-rimmed eyes betokening his grief. "Can we be forgiven Mother? Can even such as I, cursed from the moment of birth by the unholy union of unclean demon and innocent mortal, partake in the Glorious kingdom of God, even such as I whose filthy blood, teems with the most impure thoughts and desires, whose weak flesh, allows itself to indulge in what should not even be thought of, be cleansed by the sacrifice of His only son?" Black gloved hands clenched and unclenched frantically, and raised itself to wipe away the clinging solution of saline tears. "I weep, I feel, I even bleed. Do I possess an immortal soul, and so can be saved with the sinners, raised to salvation by the gift of His blood?" His head fell back down to his chest. "Give me a sign I beg of thee." The alcove remained silent and quiet, except for his anguished breathing. The statue neither moved nor spoke, remaining still, though there seemed compassion in its stance, as though the hands now reached out to embrace its fallen son.
Virgil stumbled closer, across the barrier, ignoring how it tore at his hand, and fell at its feet. "My father has consecrated me to evil, merely by implanting my being within my mother. I was born a sinner, a mortal sin, an abomination of evil, loathed by God and his angels. I have done evil things in the name of all that is evil, in Lucifer's name himself I have slain, and delighted in the taste of innocent blood. Yet I would repudiate all in thy service, if I but knew that I could be forgiven, that the taint of my father's blood, could be washed clean by repentance." He hesitated. "Not an hour ago, I committed a mortal sin, which I took such delight in, that it seems I could never be saved. Yet even this, I would give up, for a chance, but a slender chance of knowing God's mercy and love." His voice was quieter now, hoarse from pain and tears. "Just give me a sign."
"Happy are those who have seen and believed, but happier still those who have not seen, yet still believe," paraphased a mocking voice. "My dear I do not see how you can expect to receive a sign. What makes you think God has not shut his very ears to your implorations and begging? You'll not be the first that he's done it to, and you'll not be the last I can assure you." Virgil did not turn, but remained hunched in the flickering shadows at the foot of the statue. A hand reached out, and easily the speaker vaulted the barrier between them, crouching down to Virgil's level. "What are you doing in this place of good sweetheart? You are no better than I, indeed worse. I do not spout your moralizing cant, nor believe in your verminous religion. I do not stink of the censer's incense, nor wear ragged black in symbol of my sins. I'll remind you that just as you said, you committed a mortal sin, just a little under an hour ago, and that you enjoyed it just as I did, unless your begging and your screams were for cessation of pleasure, not continuance? Do you think even the most loving and benign God could forgive you for what you did with me, or even worse how much you enjoyed it?"
The voice paused, and the pale hands, stroked the other man's silver hair, tumbling from the hood. "Dearest Virgil, you do not belong here. You belong with your father, and your mother and with I."
There was no answer for a moment, then Virgil replied quietly. "God is my Father, though he may have turned his face from me. I have no mother, unless she who bore the saviour, can find love enough in her spotless soul, to extend even towards me."
The other man's voice hardened. "Always so stubborn Virgil. Can you not see that your beloved God does not exist, that this religion of yours is but a canker of the world, corrupting it, making people bow before its weakness."
"In it's weakness, lies its strength," was Virgil's quiet reply.
"You are a devil, you were born of a demon, and you are the unclean of Hades. You have no place in a church, and neither do I. Now let us leave this place, and I shall show you true heaven. With every caress you shall feel that impossible redemption slip further away, until you rejoice that you are damned, and in my embrace, you will know no sorrow. Now follow." A pentup rage was released in the last two words, enough to make Virgil stand up, and follow for a little, until he stopped, and made a final defense.
"An hour ago I came fresh from your bed to this church. There I met a man, a priest who offered to confess me." He closed his eyes, and let his words weave the picture within their minds. "He was old, and I did not expect to be believed. Perhaps I wished to be hounded from the church, like a dog that attempted to befoul its hallowed interior, so it would seal my certainty that we are outcasts from eternity. I told him everything. That my father was a demon-lord and my mother was a chaste mortal, and I the illegal and immoral fruits of their passion. I proved to him, my supernatural extract, cutting my hand, and letting him see it heal. I asked him, whether it was possible for one such as I, who had done many evils, to be saved. I told him I was sincere, that I would do what was required, would dedicate my life to expiating my sins, and then I told him, my most dreadful sin that lay upon whatever soul I had." He looked straight up into aqua eyes. "I told him I had lain with you Dante. That I had taken pleasure of my own brother, my mirror-image, my souless evil other self. I expected him to flee, for the house of God to crack and bury me within its ruins. But I heard no condemnation but the sound of weeping. He cried for me Dante. The old man cried for my sins, and cried for the state of my soul. He told me to make my confession, that in the eyes of the Lord any absolution was possible. He absolved me of sins, and told me to beg forgiveness before God and the Saints, to pray and to avoid sin." He looked towards the silver haired demon in front of him. "Do you understand Dante? Can you understand? He took pity on me, a mere mortal priest. What then must the pity of God be like?"
A hard slap across the face was his only answer. Then Dante's voice trembling with insult spoke. "It tells me nothing, except that the old man was frightened of death from your hands. My dear brother. My moralizing brother, who spent the night buried deep inside me, screaming Gods name, as you moved. Tell me, since you are of course the theological expert, is it an offence to be ed? Or am I absolved of sin, and you the er, the one who must bear this hideous charge on your conscience. What is the worse sin brother to , or to want to do it again, as I can taste your want and your need in the air. You who has killed thousands, and who now that he has glimpsed the inevitable and eternal, seeks to turn tail and run. To change his coat, and sing with the Legion of the faithful the praises of God. Do not expect if you follow this path that I shall ever quit you. I shall whom you love and revere. I shall begin with the priests and nuns of this cathedral, and anywhere you go I shall follow and bring ruin and death. Thousands more shall die because of you, this I swear. And you might be stronger than I, but I am swifter, and you can never protect them all. I tell you now. Quit this madness, and leave with me now."
All the fire went out of Virgil's posture. "Very well," he murmured, broken beyond endurance. An arm went around his shoulders.
"I shall cure you of this stain brother. The nights of passion you shall spend in my arms shall be exquisite beyond belief, and this night of doubting and of faith, shall be but a shadow, a dream that never happened." Virgil merely nodded, but a thought flashed through his head. All I endure, I offer it to you God. While in this monster's bed, and following the dictates of my own monstrous nature, I shall never forget, and I pray for forgiveness.
As they left, neither noticed two salt tears trickle down the statue of the Virgin Mary's face.