The boy had been a source of fascination from the moment he laid eyes on him. Even half-dead, he recalled the way Yamato had bonded with the boy, the way the boy's power had almost hidden the blade's call. Clearly had hidden it for years, from all but her previous owner. There was a bond there, a story. Yamato's loyalty was hard to win. But Nero had been no one, and the sword was not his. Taking the blade back was an easy choice. Nero was collateral. Too trusting and unprepared for such an attack.

A defeat would have traumatised a lesser man, the injury a good excuse to retreat from a life of war. The violation of the home might have made others cower in fear. Instead, Nero had rallied at the first call to arms. The boy was stubborn and vengeful… but also strangely compassionate. Vergil knew the boy had offered him help when they first met. V was astonished he would do the same again. Some might think it a sign of the boy's weakness, foolishness. He knew, to find kindness after such abuse was a strength. One he once saw in his own mother, while she lived. Something he found lived on in Dante now. Something that he himself lacked.

Even decaying as he was, the boy's familiarity was undeniable. Sparda's blood ran through Nero's veins. But the boy had bled and cried in pain at their first encounter. Clearly, the child was less than half-demon. To be a member of Sparda's bloodline, there was only one possibility. Nero was Dante's child. Fitting that, once more, Dante was the one who got to cling to the last fragment of their family, while he was left alone. Still, even if the boy was Dante's child, Vergil regretted needing Nero to fix his mistakes. He hated needing the boy to take his battles for him, not just because of the blow to his pride. Malphas, Gilgamesh… either could have killed the boy. Nero with his one real arm and no devil trigger to aid him. Without power… V must have known he may be sacrificing Nero.

The boy hadn't complained about having to step in with Malphas. He hadn't objected to helping Vergil to that final fight with his other half, even as he must have wondered what good his dying companion could do. The thank-you he had given the boy, the acknowledgement he offered when he said Nero's name, they were real and genuine. He had even spared Dante for Nero's sake and hoped his brother could talk the child to returning to his happy life, the girl he had back home, the children they were raising.

But Nero, stubborn Nero, hadn't been content to go home. Of all the reasons to find power, all the suffering he and Dante endured, risking death for power… and the boy gets it through will alone. Love even. For Dante… maybe for Vergil himself. It doesn't matter. It is the concept that is fascinating, the prospect of such power existing which interests him. The motive is irrelevant. The boy has come with a goal, but Vergil has his own. Nero is his son… and suddenly he wants to test that strength, see what legacy he has left on this world. It matters even more than fighting Dante, enough that he will accept a win by default to try the child.

And yes… the way the boy cracks those spectral knuckles, the gleam in his eyes. Vergil can see his own pride in Nero, his own needs and desires reflected in the boy's face.

"I'll make you submit… Father." How easily the boy claims their kinship, even if it's to barb an insult.

Usually, such words would invoke fury and the promise of a slow demise. Instead, Vergil finds himself looking at his child, and for a moment, the urge to fight fades away.

"This has nothing to do with you. Stand down." Indeed, if the boy acquiesces, Vergil will let him walk away. Of all of them, Nero is the one with a hope to build a happy and normal life. He might marry the one he loves; watch the children he has taken in grow… even have some of his own. Just like Sparda. Just like Dante and Vergil themselves have failed to do. Because of the promise of pain that lurks in their bloodline.

He hasn't known the boy long but, even before Nero speaks, Vergil can see his words have angered this child. It seems Nero knows the family curse too. Knows it from more than their painful first encounter. His eyes burn, and his lips pull back in a snarl Vergil can swear he has seen in the mirror,

"Nero."

The boy's name carries a new weight, a different air as he says it now. It is soft, the only regret he will allow himself in the heat of battle. Before it was the boy's name, the way the boy identified himself. It had no more meaning than any other name… even if the boy had been Dante's child. Now Vergil utters it with mild wonder, amusement. He lets it play across his tongue and wonders if he would have called his son such a thing. He wonders who named the boy and why. And, as the boy is his son, he lets a touch of possessiveness linger there. How long has it been, how long since he last had something, someone?

Years of fighting to survive have made him skilled and ruthless. He is pleased fighting Dante has dulled his sword a little. Even if Nero was not his son, he would not want to kill him. Still, he will play with the child, force him to show his strength and skill.

Nero is his legacy. The least he can do is ensure the boy is strong enough to live with the weight of it.

As always, I own nothing but the story