Hiya! Just a short fic on the time in hell that Vergil was Nelo Angelo, and how Trish used her similarity to Eva to keep him under the control. Enjoy and leave reviews! .
Darkness. Pain. Torture. That was what Trish saw on the Dark Knight's Face, in those glowing eyes that were not meant to be. Mundus was a cruel leader. A tyrant. And many would plot against, yet no one would take the actual stand. Trish knew naught of the world above, she only knew that her job was to "keep" Nelo in line. She was only told that her looks were of that of an angel to him, and she often wondered when she was sent to soothe him, why her looks mattered so much.
This time, his growling roars and loud noises of rebellion coming from his hold made her heart sink. She hated that once she finally got him to submit back under Mundus' control, that spark of lively blue would fade once again from his eyes.
The demons moved aside to let her pass, many lowly demons laid dead, strewn across his room. This happened every time.
"I..will not be held here!" his voice strained, the low pitch seemed more human than it had been ever before. His back was to the lightning demon, And her heels clicking along the floor made him whirl around, face contorted in pain.
His eyes were that of a cobalt blue again, through and through, and the veins along his face pulsed and whirled. An inner battle was going on inside him. She knew he was the elder son of the great General Sparda, and he had come to slay Mundus..only to fall. Now he was under his control, free of his own will, a slave. Though now, that son shown through, his eyes conveyed mixed emotions, anger, regret, self hate, failure, but never fear.
Once his focus registered on Trish's image, confusion and hope bled into his gaze, a youthful, childlike aura coming over him. He spoke one word, low, raspy, and full of the pain of losing someone he cared for.
"Eva...mother?"
Trish's own blue eyes widened at the last word. He had never called her that in all the experience that she had with him. And she finally realized. Sparda's wife that had been murdered by demons, the sole purpose this mighty son had started his quest for power. And Mundus has been using her image to fool him into thinking she was his lost mother...
She instantly felt guilty, and so so sorry that she had to be the one to put him back on his leash. If demons could cry, she would be right now.
Trish took a few steps forward, hesitant and wary. "..Ver...gil?" she sounded out his name, earning the knight to drop to his knees in front of her, arms wrapped around her waist in a childish, loving embrace.
"You were killed.." He spoke, voice shaking and unstable, the emotions he was dealing with, and the pain..
Trish bit her lip, unsure of what to say before finally speaking. "No..honey, I never did. I've been here with you the whole time." She soothed, sinking to her knees with him, placing his head in her lap.
"That cannot be. I watched you die, I watched you murdered right in front of me..And I couldn't stop it." He continued, his voice hitching on the last sentence.
Using his dead mother's image to do Mundus' bidding was not something she enjoyed..but orders were orders.
"No honey. I'm Here, your father is away, but he'll be back, just you see. But I..need you to do something for me alright?" Trish spoke lightly, every word that bled from her lips was a deceiving, betrayed, lie.
The complete and utter trust upon Vergil's face made her hate herself even more.
"Anything, mother."
Trish bit her lip, not wanting to speak the next words, but facing Mundus' wrath was far more terrible.
"I need you to sleep. Drift. Far far away from the horrors of this world. Peace, Vergil."
His face contorted in slight confusion and apprehension, why would he need to sleep? He needed power..to keep her safe.
"Not that..anything but that. The nightmares will come."
The blonde demoness was silent for a moment, contemplating her next sentence.
"Yes. For me? Trust me, no nightmares will come today, Vergil, when you wake up all will be how it always was. We'll be a...family."
Vergil's eyes closed, the veins along his face pulsing and swirling.
"Very well, mother. I trust your judgment."
Trish relaxed, subsequently stroking fingers through his white locks, the helmet strewn across the room.
"Good. Now sleep, dear. Drift away."
Trish watched as the Eldest son closed his eyes gradually, the striking blue slipping away as he went, taking his soul along with him, all the strength and regalty he held slipping away.
Vergil was gone once again.
The Knight's eyes snapped open minutes later, glowing and fierce before sitting up. He did not even give one glance toward Trish before moving to pick the helmet up, slipping it down over his features, and returning to Mundus' soldier.
Trish hung her head, not moving as Nelo strode out behind her, obviously Mundus had called. Would probably send him after the other son she had heard about. Dante.
Before she could move to return to her quarters, a demon lackey tapped her on the shoulder, making her give him an icy glare in return.
"What is it?" She snapped, electricity coursing along her fingers.
The demon sneered before replying. "The master has a job for you. Nelo isn't as ready as he thought, so you will travel to the human realm, find the youngest Sparda, and kill him."
She blinked, going rigid before giving a stiff nod. That bastard. Retched, no good "demon king".
Trish turned on her heels, disappearing down the hallway to make the preparations.
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Vergil floated. Endlessly. Cold. Numb. He knew. He was very aware of what was happening. He had gone after Mundus. He had tried to slay him. He had failed. Failed his family's name. His brother. His father. And his Mother. But especially himself. Then he had been enslaved. A new entity had taken over. Corruption and Insanity. The Knight. He fought his way to the top, clawed his way to regain control, and once he did, his mind became foggy. Muddled. He lost sense of reality, the insanity now drifting through his and the knight's mind made things unclear. That wasn't his mother, could it be? In this place, this hell? Or was she just a figment of his delusion?
Nevertheless, her image was so strong..so striking. She compelled him. She was his mother, or what he chose to believe, the only thing in his personal limbo that kept him from completely submitting to the inner demons.
Mother told him to sleep, as if it was all just a bad dream, and he listened. Because maybe, maybe he would escape these nightmares he relived over and over. No control of his own body or actions. He would wake up one day, in the bed in his old home, the smell of breakfast cooking while his younger twin, Dante flitted around his mother's skirts as she cooked. Father...Sparda.
What would he think now? Of his failure of a son, Hell, even Dante managed to stay alive and sane, he seemed to win every battle he was faced with? And why? This so called compassion and love for others? That was the key to overcoming the obstacles? Feh.
But this couldn't be just a so called nightmare, a bad dream where things turn out alright in the end. No he knew it wasn't. The tortures, the beatings, the mental abuse he had suffered was real. Before, of course, he became a mindless puppet for his greatest enemy.
It irked him to end, having to watch through his own eyes, but not. To be aware of his actions, and not being able to control them. It was like looking through a window to the other side. He could see, but he couldn't touch.
And so he simply was. It had taken everything to regain control again over himself. And now he must wait ever longer to try again. And he would. He knew he was the weaker subject in this matter. He knew there was a slim chance to ever return to what he was before his fall. But giving up was for the weak. The cowardly. And whatever he had left in him, he would use. No matter if it killed him and the knight in the end. He would win this battle.
"Do you hear that Nelo?!" He shouted into the blackness, his voice seeming to echo. "You won't win. I'll make sure of that. I'll drag you down with me. No one will make a son of Sparda a laughing legend. Whether it be by my hand or my brother's, you will perish."