Dark Knight: Orions Tears I

Hope is the thing with feathers-

That perches in the soul- And sings the tunes without the words-

And never stops- at all.
-Emily Dickinson


The blue fire that surrounded us radiated from him and a sort of paralysis invaded my limbs. I thought Vergil would have to carry me away as the noises from my father's guards came upon us. I knew he would not mind doing that. It was too late to move my legs to make a sprint. Vergil had lifted me up in his arms for he was so very strong. As I felt his arms about me; one arm under my back, one under my knees, I thought I heard my father's voice from the topmost window shouting. There was undeniably anger in his voice, but they were muffled by the rain or my own confused thoughts.

"I think your father wants his little girl to go back home." He looked at me sideways, his arctic blue eyes contained blue-flames in them and we went flying into the air, but we never did get far as his image faded. The solidity of his presence, flesh and blood disappeared. My arms tried to grab hold of his faded image, but my fingers swiped at empty air. I was sent spiraling downward from the height we were at, which caused me to land purposefully on my legs, giving more weight to the right leg. I heard a crack and I stumbled, my face met the wet dew of the grass and the screams came from me. Rain and wind battered around me and the elements tried to distract me from my pain. I could only feel the shocking pain that ripped through my right leg, which had struck the ground at an awkward angle. Trying to move, I could see my father coming towards me and a few of his guards. Vergil!

My fathers voice from above me seemed clipped, "Now you've hurt yourself. That's my job. Though that serves you right, trying to run off like that. Where would you go? Vergil can't help you. Your blood managed that." He gestured to the guards to pick me up and from my position; cramped up with my hand over my broken leg, just barely able to reach my gun. Before I could point it towards them, they had extracted it from my curled fingers.

I managed to look up and that's when I saw him return. Vergil appeared behind my father and the guards in that same metallic demonic form; gloriously silver blue and black in the rain. He had with one swift move of his power divested the guards around me; they went tumbling on the wet grass, choking on the electrical currents that were seared through them. Stopping only before that their limp bodies told of their unconscious state. Vergil glanced quickly at me, "I thought I'd be merciful…for you."

No one looked as heroic as he did then and I realized through my pain and confusion what I've refused to see before. When my arms were wound around his demon form; blue fire and magical, like the dragon of my dreams and my face tight against the cool, smooth flames that clarity collided with confusion. But I did not then know what admiration and love together felt like.

My father's voice interrupted with a maniacal pitch and clapped his hands, "Bravo, you two. If I were the romantic type, I'd start bawling my eyes out and get a year supply of Kleenex. So much sap it makes a father so proud. Should I arrange for a wedding date? I'd love to give away the bride…..it's after all a father's duty."

"Shut up!" Vergil sneered, "I would have taken care of you sooner but I believe it's your daughter's call." His demon form disappeared and returned to his human image. He looked at me with a silent vigilant question in those cool blue eyes that asked me what he wanted to know.

"I think, father, if you don't want to get hurt, you'd do as you're told." I finally replied. The pain in my leg felt razor-sharp that I was thankful for the rain, wetting my face for tears seared the back of my eyes. I could not tell if I had cried through the wet sooty lashes of my vision. My voice wavered and an onslaught of words came out of me, all for the justification of a demon, "Whatever you have up your sleeve, you can't even possibly try and defeat Vergil. If you've got any more manipulative schemes……"

He cut me off, "Quiet, girl, you just don't know what you're getting into. With a half demon no less. He's no worse than myself. Haven't I told you that you can't trust anyone?"

Arkham turned to the half demon, "How is it that you've managed to return to your solid form, Vergil? I thought that I had taken care of that…."

"You can thank your daughter for that, old man, the blood you extracted from her did two things; one to provide you with the potency of pure white power since you used that blood to combine with a sacrificial animal. How appropriate since you study and sacrifice so many animals for your little laboratory. In order to lure a demonic energy like myself closer. As you know, our little agreement before," he continued, but his eyes strayed over to mine. A flicker of regret seem to cross them and I lay there gritting my teeth from the pain.

He paused only momentarily to pick me up, "Come little Mary, you need to get that leg fixed up." And for the second time on that rainy day, he held me in his arms. I winced from the pain but I sputtered, wanting to know more, "I'll be fine…just tell me what's going on. Everything."

"Yes do tell, I'm dying to know as well….my daughter would like to know of your deception as well.." Arkham responded with a sense of triumph. We were getting drenched underneath the cover of clouds and rain and wind whipped around us. I thought that if my constitution wasn't strong enough, I'd surely be sick tomorrow.

"First things first…" Vergil gave him a warning look, "Your daughter needs tending."

"Such concern. It aches me deep down here…" My father made a gesture with his fist against his chest. "This isn't the Vergil I have thought to be…."

"If you have had the courtesy to learn more about my lineage and not just about my father's side, you'd know my mother raised me and my brother with what you haven't the slightest clue of."

"And that is?" Arkham scoffed, "You were the one who wanted power. I want the same things you do, boy. You and me, we're alike."

Vergil ignored him and walked towards the manor, the doorway was left open to allow us inside and my eyes closed from the excruciating pain. It was with sheer will power not to cry out like a little girl. This made me appear strong and could take physical pain, but the truth was so far from that.

He set me down upon the couch where the fires were lit in the room and took one of the folded wool blankets by the fireplace; placed them on me and then proceeded to look at my leg, "Looks like you'll heal from this. Here," Taking one of the bottles of wine from the table next to the couch, he poured me a glass, "Even if you don't drink, these are old remedies for tension and easing the pain.

Arkham folded his arms, standing there looking at us with a sense of anger in those same colored eyes as mine. I became so ashamed of my own lineage, of my own father, the pain stark truth of being related to a mad man. If Vergil had a father like Sparda who protected humans for example; a true demon that sealed the doors from the demonic world to this world and his mother being a wonderful and beautiful human, then truly this knowledge only made me cry in pain from the darkness that ran in my father's vein.

"How touching, Vergil. Such deep concern for my daughter. It breaks my heart." Arkham taunted, "Tell her what your plan was and let's see if she looks at you with the same admiration again."