A/N: What am I doing?
The answer is I don't fucking know.
This is just an excuse to quote a bunch of Dante's Divine Comedy quotes because I'm already engrossing myself with this masterpiece.

PS. All the "his" and "him" and "he" parts refer to Vergil as an individual because I highly doubt V views himself as his previous self, at least not completely.


"There is no greater sorrow than to recall happiness in times of misery."

V stares at the old painting, half burnt, hanging loosely on the wall. Trying to remember, trying to realize and to make true sense of the tragedy that has happened to him. He was all but born only hours before, already left alone, cold and naked in a mansion that held too many memories.

And he is scared, holding onto his trembling body as he kneels in front of the painting, trying to remember, yet finding the attempt all the more painful and unnecessary. Perhaps only to survive he convinces himself. After all, he doubts he has enough time left to waste away like this, pondering beneath a pile of ashes that held so much of his humanity. So much weakness.

He was supposed to die.

"…yet I lost life's breath," V says, his voice hoarse and new to his ears as he lifts his shaking hands feeling regret.

He doesn't know what he regrets the most though, it just flows to him, the memories, harsh and truthful, like a blinding white light, burning his eyes as he sees ghosts of the past. Of a long time ago, where a mother's soft hands ran through his hair, caressed his face and told stories of legends. Of an era filled with darkness and terror and of a man that was born of hell flames but fought for humanity and stayed to protect a world he could never really be a part of. V remembers, as he sits in the center of his childhood, scanning the room, the burnt piles and scratched walls, he hears laughing, teasing and fighting of two boys, oblivion to the horror surrounding them, in a world that they were supposed to keep hidden, away from unwelcome ears and eyes. A brother he envied so much.

And he feels sadness, flowing through his veins as he remembers, deadening his mind. Like a poison to his spirit, dulling him and killing off every other mixed up emotions until it is the only victor in his core. He doesn't feel fear, weakness, or even pride anymore but a black mist settling upon him and refusing to shift. He feels lost, more lost than when he wandered in hell, trying to avoid the torture that was forced onto him every minute by the prince of darkness, whom he once dared to challenge in youth.

Oh… how foolish.

He holds himself, in an attempt to put halt to this weakness that embraces his body; to stop the shaking but to no avail… all his life he threw away everything, everything he loved and cared for power and now look at him. A shell, only a half of his true self, whimpering to the sound of the wind, singing him a requiem of lost souls between the pillars of a house of death and demons.

And that damn pride, that was only a product of firing flames inside of him, to prefer the dark abyss instead of a helping hand of a brother, reaching… yearning for him to grasp it and yet…

"Pride, avarice, and envy… the only tongues men know and heed … are all a Babel of despair."

He is ready to die. Why would he even want to survive anymore, after all this time? What was there left to fight for?

And V lies. Closing his eyes, letting his senses drift off, he feels like he's a hundred years old, tired of fighting with a strained body. He closes his eyes, listening to the soft sound of a melody, coming from far away, maybe somewhere in his subconscious but too real to be a dream. A sound of a familiar tender melody that sips through his heart, deeply harrowing and torrential in a way it encompasses his body. It's powerful, it's sad and it feels like a friend all the same as his mortal enemy but it is for sure an undying accompaniment, helping him forget and letting him drift away.

V wasn't supposed to exist, how a man can survive this much? He lifts his hands, unconsciously, feeling the slender strings caressing his fingers, its curves tenderly traced under his palm and he plays. He plays to forget, to forgive and to let go of the sorrow clinging to his heart. As he opens his eyes, the tears start to run down his cheeks.

And as the melody ascends the notes become more fierce, more powerful, taking control of him. And here he thought he had lost the ability to cry somewhere along in the dark forest of nightmares. It is now more than crying, the kind of desolate sobbing coming from a man who has lost all hopes yet is still fighting within to find a purpose, powerful enough to lift him to his feet as he stares once more with wet eyes at a picture of a woman, who left him to die.

The pain of a stab, even though spiritual, suddenly warms his chest as his eyes shifts to the small boys in the picture, particularly one, now a deep frown forming on his brow as he takes a deep breath in.

His hands falling to his sides, determined, perhaps he knows what his reason is for getting up. Slowly then, the trembling man rises to his newfound legs. Not letting his eyes wandering away from the painted picture as a huge black bird appears on his shoulder and a panther, wild and unearthly at his side and then the wind blows as though in a mission to wipe away the dried tears on his face, to give him a sort of strength to stand as He lets a bittersweet smile crawl on his lips.

"My course is set for an uncharted sea."


A/N: I don't know about you but the violin part in the game always tears me up, especially those times V brings up his stick in the form of a violin and starts playing... in his mind. I also adopted that.

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed