Chapter 14
The metallic screech of his cell door opening jarred Dante from the unconsciousness he had fallen into after the Hell Prides had dragged Lady away. Something deeper than sleep, but less healing, his addled mind couldn't piece together where he was, why his body was so impossibly leaden. He didn't recognise that someone was in the cell with him until pain flared across his ribs and he choked on his own breath body and mind reeling at the sudden and pure shock. Dante sucked in a harsh breath lungs heaving to draw in more air, eyes watering as the pain across his chest barely lessened and he felt warm blood trickle across his abdomen.
Instinctively he shuffled backwards away from the source only comprehending some time after the fact what had caused him pain. Halted in his attempts at escape by the chains about his wrists he glanced down at a pair of booted feet clad in black leather and belonging to Theo's lithe frame. Something in his stomach flipped, but he lashed out with his own still booted feet kicking the demon in the shins and forcing him to step back a little, not enough.
"Even half-dead you're still violent as ever," Theo said scornfully, admonishing Dante as though he were a child, or something even more repulsive.
"Fuck you," Dante's response was bitter, venomous and yet at the back of his mind something recalled that Lady was missing and scoring points off this demon was not what he should care about. He might ordinarily relish in such games, but he was done with that, done with the sadistic piece of crap that stood, gloating, above him.
Theo raised his foot again as though to strike and Dante flinched instinctively, hating himself for granting the demon even that small victory, but the blow never came.
"As much as I would enjoy beating you into a pulp my master has his own plans for you… and your brother," the final words were said as an afterthought and Dante didn't like the demon's tone, the flash in his eyes.
"Vergil…?" Dante shifted, tried to right himself as much as possible with the chains binding his wrists to the ground. Their weight made his muscles ache, but he wouldn't show the demon any further weakness.
"Yes your brother is still alive," Theo grinned down at the hunter, but he had lost some of the childish glee in his eyes. He was serious now, or maybe even bored. Dante had begun to realise that Theo was under order not to kill him. That obviously spoiled the demon's fun somewhat. "Really he needs to be put out of his misery. How anyone can stay sane after what he endured here is beyond me."
Dante recalled the last time he had seen his twin before Trish had revealed her true colours and he had ended up here. He had never seen his brother so haunted or helpless. It bothered him that anyone or anything could make Vergil behave like that.
"Touching," Dante quipped forcing nonchalance into his voice. He knew that Theo was trying to goad him and he wouldn't let it happen. "I'd almost think that you cared about him."
"The opposite I'm afraid," Theo shot back irritated that despite his wounds and weakness the hunter remained unfazed. "I've had to put up with the both of you for far too long." The demon knelt down so that he was at eye level with Dante. In the low light the demon's skin glowed with an unearthly paleness. His forked tongue ran across his uncannily white teeth as though he were deep in thought.
"I must say I thought you'd care more about your brother. He is your only living relative after all." Theo levelled his gaze with Dante's watching him calculatingly. The man's face was truly a mess; flecked with cuts and bruises, his right eye slightly swollen. Yet Dante remained defiant through all the pain and humiliation that the demon had caused him. Vergil had been broken in Hell over time, but by Mundus hand. Theo had only been created to construct the final phases of his master's plan and he despised his role. "I have always wondered if Vergil suffered a similar fate to your father… but I suppose Sparda didn't live through the ordeal-"
"Shut up!" Dante snapped, the chains rattled as he shifted inadvertently in some display of anger that was quickly hampered. The demon had sat just beyond his reach and he knew it, yellow eyes shining with mirth – or what would have been mirth if they weren't so cold. "You are just Mundus puppet; don't you think I know that? You're not allowed to kill me, you're nothing but a pathetic lapdog following your master's orders."
"Really?" Theo leant forwards, tangled a hand in the demon hunter's ivory locks and dragged his head backwards exposing the column of Dante's bruised throat. "Think yourself lucky human if it were down to me I would sever your spine and send you back to the human world as a cripple. I can't imagine a better punishment for you than watching the world end and being powerless to stop it."
Dante swallowed hard. He was unable to admit that the thought wasn't a little disturbing. That Theo would quite easily be capable of breaking his back and leaving him that way. The demon was pulling his head back hard, the threat of his words clear in the pressure he applied to the hunter's neck.
"Shame you're not in charge then isn't it?" Dante sneered balling his hands into fists since he knew that his arms could not reach up to free himself from the demon's grasp.
A sardonic smile spread across the demon's thin lips, stretched too wide for his painted human face. "Be careful hunter. I know my place – I think perhaps it's time you learned yours."
One final task to complete, one final mission and then Trish would be indispensable to the King of Hell. At least it was the last time she had to straighten out one of Theo's fuck ups.
The bright neon lights shone through the rain, unmistakable at the end of the dingy street. 'Devil May Cry' – why Dante had picked such a name (or location for that matter) Trish could not understand. It was a bit of a mouthful after all. She pondered it as she left where the portal from the demon world had spat her out and walked steadily down the street the heels of her booted feet clicking against the paving stones.
Trish had never cried; she realised that slowly – she had not been built for emotions after all. In fact for some time she had not really been sure of her purpose. That was until Mundus had introduced her to the shell of a human that she now knew to be Vergil. But when she had first met him Vergil had not been a son of Sparda. He had clung to her and wept and she had not known what to do at all, but Mundus had been pleased by the development. It had been the only brief respite from pain Vergil had known and Trish was still uneasy that she had been the one to somehow bestow that small kindness on the eldest son of Sparda.
He hated her for it now of course, because she was one of the few beings who had seen him completely helpless. She had seen him cry… But Trish had always assumed that was Vergil's human half, not his devil side. After all devil's never cry and Trish knew that all too well.
At least that was what she had believed for so long, until Dante saved her life in Phantom's chamber when he could have just as easily let her die. What emotions that moment had awoken in her Trish could not possibly identify, but that first act of kindness from another being had changed something inside of her. When Vergil had directed his helplessness, his despair towards her it had been Eva he reached out for not Trish – she was just a puppet. But when Dante had reached for her it was for her alone. The action had been in spite of the fact that she bared a resemblance to his mother; Dante had wanted to save her.
Stupid. Trish realised that she had been dabbling in foolish human emotions and chided herself for it. Dante had only felt some connection to her because she looked like Eva. That was the point of her creation.
The demoness had reached the front door of Devil May Cry and was about to pull it open when she heard a crash from inside. Her first thought was that demons had noticed the shop was empty and decided to raid the place, but then she heard a woman swear. Tentatively she pushed the door open a crack.
"Fucking piece of shit half-demon scumbag!" Another crash and a piece of furniture flew past the segment of room that Trish could see through the half opened door.
Trish recognised the voice though – that woman who Theo had caught, the human one. How on earth had she gotten back here? Confident in her ability to overpower the woman Trish pushed the door open wider. The raven haired huntress stood with her back to Trish, panting, her hands planted on either side of the large desk that dominated the back wall of the room.
"I'm impressed," Trish said casually slipping inside the room and letting the door close behind her with a click, "a human actually manages to enter the demon world, meet the Prince of Darkness and live to tell the tale?"
Lady's movements were almost of demonic speed – almost. She whirled on Trish, swinging a large bazooka from where it had been laid across Dante's desk and fired on instinct.
If not for her demonic senses Trish would have been toast. She dodged just in time, springing to the side with cat-like grace. The door, on the other hand, was less lucky and the missile burst through the ornate wood, reducing it to splinters and carving an ugly scar in the doorway to Dante's shop. The walls crumbled in on themselves leaving the doorway mostly blocked by broken stone and shards of wood.
"Not much for conversation are we?" Trish asked, her voice was honey sweet, every word that came from her mouth dripping with sarcasm. The demoness straightened up, her lithe form was beautiful and Lady couldn't deny the perfection with which Mundus created his servants – and clad them in ridiculously figure hugging clothing.
A vein in Lady's draw jumped, she let her arms slacken their hold on Kalina-Ann. Sure Dante's shop needed a face lift, but she'd just end up loaning him the money for it in the long run. Kalina-Ann was great for dispatching lower level demons, but the more skilled, the more intelligent, were always irritatingly acrobatic.
"Trish?" Lady bit out around clenched teeth bi-coloured eyes levelling with the demoness own bright blue ones. They were uncannily like Dante's which only set the huntress more on edge.
"The one and only," the demoness said playfully cocking her head to the side. "It seems that my useless compatriot couldn't handle you after all – but unfortunately I never got your name?"
"Like I'd tell you," Lady spat, ever defiant. "You're just some demonic bitch that was sent to mess with Dante-" the thought of the hunter and Lady wavered. She realised Trish had noticed "-if you think I'm telling you anything you can forget it."
"You care about him I see," Trish said thoughtfully, her eyes glimmered with something that wasn't entirely inhuman, emotions that weren't unkind. She began to take a step forward, not directly, but to the side an attempt to flank the huntress.
Lady let the bayonet end of Kalina-Ann drop to the wooden floor with a dull thud and drew her scorpion from where she had already re-harnessed the weapon to her thigh. She levelled the weapon at the demoness' head challenging her to take another step.
"Don't move."
Trish raised her arms in mock surrender and shrugged. "Fair enough."
"Why are you here?" Lady asked eyeing the woman wearily. Trish had no weapons that Lady could see. She also knew that her gun wasn't exactly a threat to the blonde haired woman. Lady imagined that if Trish could dodge a missile she could also dodge bullets.
"If you're not going to share with me, I really don't see why you expect me to be any more forthcoming," Trish shot back, her rosy lips pressed into a thin line. She folded her lean arms over her chest, rested her weight over one booted foot.
"We're at an impasse then," Lady quipped raising her chin defiantly. This was never going to end well, and Lady was preparing for a fight. She knew the layout of the room, but the woman clearly possessed demonic powers. Lady could put up a fight against demons of this calibre, but she had also never gone toe to toe with one that wasn't Dante and he had never wanted to kill her. Lady imagined that Trish didn't care either way if she lived or died, but if Trish wanted something from Devil May Cry she was going to have to pry it from Lady's lifeless hands. After all this was Dante's shop and anything she took from here could only be meant to hurt the him.
The tension hung thick in the air around them both; Lady's arm had begun to ache.
"I don't want to fight you," Trish said abruptly, but even as she spoke Lady saw sparks dancing at her fingertips. A threat of the power that the woman could unleash. "I have no issue with you and I don't care why Theo took such a shine to you, but if you don't let me get on with my business then you leave me no choice."
"Go to hell," Lady snapped and squeezed the trigger.
Trish's blue eyes widened at the somewhat unprovoked attack. Her fingers flared with lightning and she danced sideways as Lady sprayed bullets in her direction. Electricity caught the air with a crack blasting the flying bullets before they reached their target as Trish flipped, narrowly dodging the rest.
Lady felt the trigger jam, realised that the clip had emptied as Trish sprung forwards her eyes gleaming, trailing yellow lightning from her fingertips.
Using Kalina-Ann's blade as a pivot Lady launched her herself at the demoness hauling the blade from the scarred wooden floor to take a swing at the woman's head. Trish slid backwards, alarmed that she had been forced into the defensive again by this human woman's sheer brazenness. There was so much rage in the raven-haired huntress, anger swirling in her bi-coloured eyes, pulled from the pit of her soul to fuel this onslaught.
For a second Lady allowed herself a brief feeling of triumph, but it was short-lived. Kalina-Ann's blade slammed back down into the wooden floor and before Lady could think to lift the weapon Trish round-housed her in the torso. A booted food clad in black leather kicked her with a force so powerful Lady wondered if it had broken a rib. She was flung backwards, losing her grip on her beloved bazooka and sailed across the top of Dante's desk dragging its contents onto the floor with her.
Trish smirked as the huntress disappeared across the polished mahogany with a crash. She had to admit that the woman had spirit, but how had she expected to hold her own against a demon... even with that weapon. It didn't matter; as Trish had stated she had no desire to kill the woman. She scanned the room quickly looking for the object that she had come here for, knowing that it had to be somewhere amongst Dante's eclectic possessions. Then she saw it – the sword hung perfectly innocuous and ordinary looking behind the demon slayer's desk. Force Edge.
The demoness started forwards, determine to get the weapon and get out before the woman decided she was ready for round two, but before she reached the opposite side of the desk she heard Lady move.
Lady rolled to one side, her gloved hand crunching on broken glass. She lifted her palm gingerly thankful for the tough leather protecting it and saw Trish's face staring back at her from the smashed photo frame – no Eva's. Realisation dawned on Lady, but her thoughts were cut short as she heard the demoness' heeled boots clicking against the wooden floor, striding towards her.
Rather than stand Lady crouched, braced herself with each palm flat on either side of the desk and with a yell pushed forwards. The desk lurched across the floor and slammed with full force into Trish who fell ungracefully across the top it and crashed down next to Lady. In a flash Lady was on top of the woman, grabbing a handful of her silken blonde hair and landing a blow across her face.
Trish's lip split as Lady's gloved fist slammed across her face. Lady raised her fist intent upon landing another blow, but Trish's fingers flared with electricity and she shoved her open palms against the woman's shoulders forcing Lady backwards with a yelp. It had not been a killing blow. Trish did not know why she cared about the woman, but she did not want to electrocute her – Dante cared about this woman and had saved Trish's life, perhaps Trish owed him that much.
Lady landed sprawled on the hard wooden floor dazed for a second as her vision blurred with light. Hearing the rustle of leather and realising the demoness was beginning to stand Lady rolled onto her side ready for another blow, but none came. Instead she stared into Trish's blue eyes with her own bi-coloured ones. Trish halted, crouched on one knee and watched her warily.
"You're not like other demons," Lady observed after a moment. She's like Dante. "You're different."
Trish's eyes flicked down to the crumpled photograph of Eva, the image distorted by shards of glass.
"You're not as weak as most humans," Trish replied her eyes had softened as she glanced away, something akin to sadness in them. Her outstretched fingers idly traced the image of Eva's face. When she looked up again something about her was different. "Dante is a demon… you care about him?"
"Half," Lady corrected. She pushed herself upright so that she sat facing the demoness. "He saved my life."
"He saved mine too," Trish admitted wistfully.
Lady felt a touch of jealousy jolt through her; Trish was beautiful, graceful, had Dante developed feelings for her – no she admonished herself, it was much more likely that Trish's resemblance of Eva was what had caused that response in Dante. But as weak with women as the hunter was he wasn't a total idiot either – so he must have seen something in Trish that was worth saving.
"If he saved you then why are you here?" Lady asked finally. "I heard you talking to Theo, Mundus wants to kill them both…"
Lady felt all the rage seeping out of her, the fire that had burned in her when she realised that Vergil had tricked her and then throughout her fight with Trish suddenly extinguished. Dante was dying in Hell and she had unwittingly walked back into the human world trapping herself out of reach. She could not deny that in this moment she felt achingly human and alone. The only other person who she truly cared about in the whole damned universe was going to die, and he didn't even know that his brother had betrayed him once again.
Trish was silent, unmoving and for a moment neither woman knew what to do or say. Fighting seemed pointless, but they were both on opposite sides of a battle that they had been unwittingly dragged into – an ancient feud between demonic lineage which had no place for a human woman and a demonic pawn.
"I came here for the sword," Trish admitted finally glancing up to where Force Edge hung on the wall between them. "My master ordered me-"
"Mundus?" Lady asked incredulously. "The son of a bitch who won't even show himself and gets his puppets to do his dirty work? Why does he want the sword?" The same sword her father had wanted, the one that could grant the wielder unspeakable power. "What the hell does it have to do with anything?"
Trish shook her head slowly, raised her eyes to meet Lady's and there was only honesty in their blue depths. "I don't know. But he'll kill me if I fail."
Had Lady been an outsider looking in on the situation she would have laughed. There they were both sitting on the floor in the wreckage of Devil May Cry with Dante trapped in Hell and her unable to help, unable to kill one of the demons who had put him in that position. It was like they were playing a game of truth or day at some pre-teen sleepover.
"Dante is going to die," Lady said hotly her temper flaring. She finally stood needing to do something, to move. Her gloved hands balled into fists. "That demonic bastard nearly bled him out in front of me. He doesn't realise that Vergil has walked him into a trap and neither of them have their powers! You don't seem to care much about Mundus – why would you help the one who will kill you over the one who saved your life? What good will you be to Mundus once Dante is dead?"
Sadness passed across Trish's features, Lady wondered if she might cry – if she was capable. Then the demoness rose too, slowly, using the upturned desk as a crutch although she was clearly not wounded.
Her brow creased, she appeared lost in thought. "What do you suggest?"
"Help me," Lady replied beseechingly. This was her one chance to get back into Hell – where Trish had obviously come from and assumedly had a way back into – Lady didn't trust the demoness, but she would be damned if she would let this opportunity pass her by. "I need to get back into Hell, I need to help Dante."
"He means a lot to you then," Trish said absentmindedly weighing things up in her mind. If she helped the woman Mundus would discover her treachery; she would die in unimaginable agony. Before she met the sons of Sparda all that had mattered to Trish was her own existence – the preservation of her being without pain and suffering – but as she looked at the raven haired woman, at the passion burning in her red and blue eyes she realised that she wanted to feel that about something… anything. Maybe she could feel that about Dante.
"He means everything to me," Lady replied, feeling stupid for admitting it – imagining how Dante would make fun of her, but knowing it to be true. "He is the only family I have left."
Family. An alien concept to Trish, she let the corner of her mouth quirk up in a smile, she liked the idea of that – how it sounded… to belong to something.
"So," the blonde haired demoness raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a plan?"
The air was growing colder as they descended a spiral staircase that appeared to lead deeper and deeper into the heart of Hell. Dante sensed that perhaps it simply meant to intimidate him. There was no up or down in Hell after all, Theo could have probably just snapped his fingers and opened a portal to wherever their destination was, but instead he was having the hunter frog marched down the never-ending staircase by two Hell Prides who seemed to relish in drawing blood.
Honestly Dante didn't know how many more steps his wounded body could endure, but he gritted his teeth and kept going because he would not let Theo see him stumble or fall. The demon was some way ahead of them now, no longer in the mood for idle chit-chat he ignored the captive hunter and strode downwards with a sense of purpose.
Eventually the dark stone gave way to white marble, the staircase widened and just as Dante's thought his legs might give out a huge set of double doors appeared before them. They opened at Theo's touch and they strode into an impossibly large room.
Dante took it all in slowly, his mind fuzzy. The floor and walls were formed of a shining white marble, so bright it was almost silver in colour. Huge pillars held up a high vaulted ceiling, white light streamed into the room from either side and ornate marble carvings adorned the walls of the room depicting ancient battles. Their footsteps echoed, clicking on the solid stone as they moved across the room, Dante's steps more muffled, shuffling as he tried to keep himself upright.
The light had dazzled him at first and caught him off guard. However, the air was cool and crisp and refreshing to the hunter who had spent much of the past twenty-four hours chained up in the dark. He felt his body relax for all of a second, but that was all it was. Then the electricity in the air lanced through him and he could feel the demonic presence clear in the room almost as though it were a part of him. This was nothing like his own demonic energy though it was something filled with raw god-like power, and more distinctly pure evil. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
The source of that power was certain – the gigantic statue which towered over the opposite side of the room, sitting regal and king-like on his marble throne. Three dead eyes stared out across the chamber and as Dante looked into them he felt the evil in the room reach a crescendo.
"Mundus," the name left his lips as a half whisper half snarl. Dante jerked in the Hell's hold trying to get free his gut filling with unimaginable rage. The son of Sparda had never seen the King of Hell, but somehow he knew that this was the demon who had been responsible for the destruction of his family, for the death of his father, the torture of his mother… and Vergil.
Although the statue did not move, sat motionless on his huge throne, Dante could feel Mundus' gaze fixed on him. A voice grew in the depths of the room like a thunderclap in the roar of a storm.
"The youngest son of Sparda," there was almost amusement in the tone. "I had hoped for a great battle and yet… you do not look as though you will put up a fight at all. Even your brother tried… to his credit".
"Hardly a fair fight when you have your puppets tip the odds so far in your favour first," Dante spat. He glared pointedly at Theo who stood a little ahead of him at the foot of the stairs leading up to Mundus throne; the demon had his arms folded, boredom plain on his features.
The demon slayer tested the Hell Pride's hold again, found that it remained just as firm as before. He hated this. Mundus was right, Dante had not expected their meeting to play out this way either. Instead he was being dragged bloodied and weak before the King of Hell by his snake-like servant and a pair of Hell prides. But Dante was used to demons and their games so he did not let the affront to his dignity show and let his lips curl into grin.
"Give me my powers back and you won't be sounding so smug."
The room shook as Mundus let out an amused chuckle. When he spoke his voice was the sound of grating stone. "You have that same proud spirit as your father, that sense of justice. Why do you think I managed to defeat him so easily?"
"I will kill you for what you did to him, to both of them," Dante growled unable to contain his pure rage. He had watched his mother die screaming and Mundus was going to torment him with that fact. Despite his injuries the demon slayer's blood was boiling. He wished more than anything to have his powers back, just to get one blow in. It seemed suddenly as though all of his life had been boiling down to this moment, but it was all wrong. He was not meant to be so weak… he was meant to win.
"Your father should never have got into bed with that human whore. He betrayed his own kind the day he left Hell unguarded for her and I slaughtered anyone loyal to him whilst he lay in her bed," Mundus replied, the room shaking with each word he spoke – a volcano waiting to erupt. Dante could feel the power rolling off the demon King, knew that he could be obliterated at any moment, but he didn't care. He had decided a long time ago that he wasn't leaving Hell alive, not without Mundus' head – or whatever body part he would have to remove in order to destroy the demon King once and for all.
"Enough of the small talk - you've already proven to me that you have no honour," Dante quipped trying to keep the rage from his voice, from clouding his judgment. "You send these pathetic snakes to do your dirty work for you."
"Careful hunter," Theo drawled eyes flashing. "I've become bored of your mouth."
Dante smirked. "You think I give a shit about you?"
"About the one who humiliated you in front of your girlfriend? The one who bested you how many times…?" Theo had turned on his heel and stepped down from the dais, moving towards the hunter, yellow eyes shining. When he reached Dante he grabbed him roughly by the hair, pulled his head backwards. The demon was so close that Dante could smell his rotting breath. "You are scum; I will watch you die slowly."
The corner of Dante's mouth quirked upwards in a sardonic grin, "you should really try flossing. Maybe a mint?"
Theo's eyes blazed, he raised an arm as though to strike the demon slayer, but recalled that they had an audience and let his hand fall back to his side. He let go of the hunter roughly jerking his head away. Dante could tell that the demon hated him - that much was obvious. He knew, ironically, that he would have died by the demon's hand a long time ago if not for Mundus.
Theo straightened his jacket, brushed his dishevelled hair back into place - a child embarrassed by his sudden outburst. He turned back to Mundus slowly, perhaps afraid that the demon King would be displeased.
"Can we get this over with?"
Mundus seemed to consider this question from his subordinate, whether to punish the impertinence, but instead there was a rush of air inside the room almost like a sigh.
"It seems it is time for a family reunion," the demon king said, the evil in the air growing thick.
For a second the air in the room was impossibly still, and then the chamber began to shake until Dante could feel the Hells struggling to keep their grasp on his arms and he had to brace himself to remain balanced. Theo too seemed a little taken off guard, throwing out an arm to steady himself and looking up into the face of the statue as the giant chamber groaned and dust fell from the marble pillars.
Seeing that the demons were distracted Dante took his opportunity to escape, shoving the Hells backwards and knocking them off balance. The demons screeched in annoyance, but their lack of intelligence showed as they fumbled and lost their grip. Dante was almost free when Theo whirled on him, pressed one cold thin-fingered hand down hard onto the slayer's shoulder. Theo's demonic strength sent Dante crashing back down onto the harsh marble.
"On your knees," the demon hissed as the roaring and grating of stone on stone reached a crescendo and then abruptly stopped. There was a flash of bright, impossibly white light and all sound seemed sucked from the room in a vacuum.
When Dante looked up from where he had landed on his knees, Theo's hand still vice like on his shoulder preventing him from another escape attempt, the room was different. The gigantic statue had vanished into nothing. Except that it wasn't nothing. A throne remained on the raised dais where Mundus' effigy had sat and whilst it too was ornate and adorned with intricate carvings it was not made from stone…
Ice – Dante felt the sudden chill in the air even as he acknowledged the fact that the sculpted seat was wrought from solid ice, so cold that mist rolled from it in waves and seemed to fill the whole room with an evil chill.
The throne itself was not empty. A figure sat there, tall, muscular, dressed only from the waist down and bound in iron chains that glittered with frost. The chains themselves were barbed, wrapped like wire around the man's wrists and ankles, snaking along his limbs and binding him mercilessly to the throne. Where the barbed chains had bitten harshly into the man's flesh rivulets of glittering blood ran across his impossibly pale skin.
The sickening tableau was completed by a broadsword which pierced the man through the chest pinioning him to his throne of ice. The skin at the edges of the blade was crusted with dried blood, staining the sword where the man had attempted to move around the blade.
Although his head was bowed so that it was difficult to see the figure's face the snow-drift of white hair was unmistakable. Initially the man had seemed unconscious, but as he began to raise his head Dante felt his gut drop. He was certain, it had to be…
"Vergil…" the word came out as a gasp, Dante squinted shook his head to clear his vision from the spots that danced in front of his eyes, his ears still ringing. He spoke louder "Vergil?"
But how… how was Vergil still alive with so much blood loss?
The figure must have heard him because he looked up slowly, but with more purpose, until his head was raised enough Dante could look him in the eye. As Dante stared into those pale blue eyes his world seemed to turn on its head.
Only one, strangled word could force its way from his lips "… father."
A/N: Yes an update! And finally the plot point I dreamed up a gazillion years ago. I'm not going to lie, I struggled with this chapter a lot because I had so many different ways I wanted it all to go down and I just couldn't get it out. I may have set myself up for something I'm not 100% happy with, but I felt like I needed to just move on and get it out there. Also DMC5?! After how many years? I am SO happy.
Big love to anyone still reading this.
-Luce
