Well, no one wanted for me to continue it, but I went ahead and did anyway. Now how do I make the listed pairings be "Nero slowly but surely gets a crush on every boy?"
"I can walk, you know."
I was getting sick of hanging over Dante's shoulder. With my elbows jammed into his shoulder blade, I rested my chin in my hands and eyed the claymore at his back. I didn't have the best angle to try stabbing him with it, but it was always an option.
"Can't have you straining yourself after all the work Lady put into patching you up," he said.
She'd slapped a bandage across my forehead. I could have done that much myself.
After waking up, I found that the world had stopped doubling. For the most part, the dizziness was gone. My arm was still itching like crazy, but that no-doubt stemmed from Dante's refusal to leave me the Hell alone.
"Besides," he added with a flourish of his hand. "If I put you down, you'd try to run off. Then you'd get lost, and I'd have to find you. It would just be a big ordeal."
He wasn't wrong about the running away part. The moment the bastard was out of sight, I was getting out of this hellhole. "I wouldn't get lost," I grumbled too low for him to hear.
"Please, Kid, I still get lost in this place."
Seemed it was best to keep my mouth shut.
He turned, and a door creaked open. When he stepped through the doorway, I found the opposite wall lined with an impossible array of weapons. They all shone as though brand new - swords of every breed, gauntlets, axes, bows. I didn't notice myself reaching for one until the pointed fingertips of my armor came within a breath of a blade.
"Behave," Dante called. I jerked my hand back on instinct, though he said nothing else on the matter. It seemed like he was talking to someone else.
"Is this where I'm going to be tortured for information?" I asked.
With a quick tug, he yanked me from his shoulder and dropped me to the floor. That obnoxious smile was cracked across his face. "Nah, we already did the interrogation. I just needed somewhere to put you while I go take a bath."
Never letting him out of the edge of my sight, I glanced around the room. It was someone's bedroom - clearly used. The massive bed's red blankets were rumpled. Muddy boots and old leather holsters lined the floor. Excepting the wall tiled with weapons, the place was a mess.
My lip twitched toward a snarl. "This is your room, isn't it?"
"You know me too well," he said with a shrug.
Had he not been between me and the weapons, I would have gone for one right then. "I'm not staying in here with you." I wasn't staying anywhere. I needed to get out.
He leaned forward till we were even in height and far too close for my liking. Though he was still smiling, it was calm instead of playful. His eyes showed a tinge of weariness. "Kid, we're getting you a room set up right now. Take it easy. No one here is going to hurt you or try anything weird."
My eyes narrowed. "You've already done both those things."
He burst into a barking laugh as he straightened himself. "Alright, alright, but I'm done too. I'll behave after this. I don't need Dad lecturing me on formalities or something. Just stay here. I'll be right back." Just as he turned and I thought I was finally rid of him, he spun on his heels. "Oh! Unless you want to come bathe with me," he said with a wink.
He would have been much better minus one eye so he couldn't wink anymore.
"I hope you drown," I said, already calculating which weapon I would steal to end him.
"You and everyone else," he called, shutting the door behind him.
The room was dim, no candles lit and the last rays of daylight peering in from the small windows along the far wall - too small to fit through.
But the weapons seemed to glow, as though they soaked up what little light there was. As intriguing as most of the weapons were, I had no experience with gauntlets, knives, or… whatever that purple thing was. Though I'd trained myself on a crossbow, a ranged weapon wouldn't do me much good in the cramped castle walls. Even most of the swords were out of the question. For a moment, I wondered what idiot would try to fight with some of them, but then I remembered who I was dealing with.
Yet that idiot had gotten the better of me on a battlefield. I could make excuses all I wanted, but he'd knocked me flat in one quick motion. He could have killed me without much of a fight had he wanted to. I would not give him the opportunity again.
My only real option was the longsword. Even as the simplest weapon on the wall, the hilt was more detailed than that of my Red Queen. Dante was one to talk about my sword sticking out, the bastard.
With a steadying sigh, I stepped up to the wall. I didn't want to kill Dante- Well, I did, but I wasn't going to go out of my way to do it. If he or anyone else tried to stop me, though, I would do what I had to. As my fingers closed around the dragon-winged hilt, a buzz rose up my arm. It felt like an angry swarm of bees writhing under my armor. When I tried to level my grip with my bare hand, pain ripped my other arm apart, like the sword had turned to bite me.
"Fuck," I hissed, ripping my bare hand away. The other stayed. I wasn't certain I wanted it to, but I couldn't bring myself to pull away. I needed the sword, after all. I was strong enough to wield it one-handed. Its weird tricks couldn't stop me. Maybe it was built with some unsavory contraption or something - didn't matter. I could handle it. I needed it.
The door cracked open without resistance. Either he trusted me not to try escaping, or he didn't expect me to be successful. I'd been too dizzy and unconscious to track our path through the castle initially, not for lack of trying, but I'd lived in a castle all my life. I could find an exit, or I'd kill everyone trying.
The hall looked the same in both directions, lined with cold gray stone. We'd come from the right. I could recall that much. With the sword trailing at my side, I dashed that way on the tips of my toes.
The hall branched at the end, but I kept straight to follow a descending staircase. That brought me to another hall that looked identical to the first. No wonder Dante said he got lost. At least in my castle we had obnoxious paintings and statues all over the place to mark location. Swallowing a growl, I started down the hall.
Despite the occasional whispers I heard behind closed doors, I didn't run into anyone. At each connecting hall, I paused at the corner to check for patrols. The most I saw were a couple stragglers whom I slipped past without trouble. They didn't seem to be paying any attention, which was lucky for them. If they'd spotted me, I wouldn't have hesitated in silencing them. My head rushed too much for anything but desperate instinct.
This was too easy. Worryingly easy. I was waiting to turn a corner and find a wall of soldiers. There were always patrols back home. Nowhere safe to run. Nowhere to hide.
The halls blurred together. The sun must have gone down because I found no source of outside light to follow. I felt like I was going in circles, but there must have been a door to the outside somewhere. I had to find it. I would not play pawn to Capulet bastards.
I would not be held captive.
Not again.
Never again.
"Hey, kid!"
I hadn't closed my eyes, yet they snapped open. My arm was on fire, the pain near-blinding, yet Dante's eyes pierced through into my vision. As the pain faded to angry pulses, I found Dante's brow furrowed. A serious expression looked odd on him.
"You back?" he asked.
Back where? I couldn't seem to move. I felt heavy- No, he was heavy. The floor was at my back, and Dante hung over me. His knee was crushed against my chest. His grip must have been on my wrists because it tightened when I tried to pull free.
"Answer me," he said. "Then I'll let you go."
"Why aren't you wearing a shirt!?" I demanded. I was going to kill him.
Just like that, a smile snapped back into his eyes. "I was just taking a bath, remember? You're lucky I'm wearing anything." He was wearing some fancy robe, but it hardly counted when it wasn't tied.
"Get off of me!"
"Right, I know I said I'd do that." His gaze flicked up. "But can you let go of Alastor first?"
"Who!? What the hell? Just let go of me!" There was too much skin. No one should have been okay with being so naked. All the fire from my arm had moved to my face. I didn't want to think. I just wanted to get away.
Dante sighed. "The sword, kid. Just open your hand."
My hands snapped open, palms up. I'd forgotten all about the sword, not that it was doing me much good at this point. The weight left me all at once as Dante hopped up, the sword lying across his hands. He glanced at it from hilt to tip with one brow raised. Still wasn't tying his damn robe shut.
As I scrambled to my feet, I leaned against the nearby wall so I wouldn't have to look at him. I didn't want to talk to him either. Trying to run sounded tempting, but now he had the weapon, and I wasn't certain I trusted my body to get me anywhere.
"Feeling okay?" Dante asked.
"Why were you on me?" I asked. A tested glance showed that he'd finally tied his robe. Not tight enough - I could still see way too much of his chest - but it would have to do.
His answer followed a pause. "You had a weapon. Considering how often you've said you want to kill me, I thought it would be better to take it before waking you up, but you weren't keen on letting go. Guess you liked Alastor."
Though I tried to hold my tongue between my teeth, the question escaped me. "What happened?"
"You must have passed out again." He didn't look at me as he answered. "I told you to be careful with that head wound. Your room's probably set up by now, so why don't I take you there? I'll have some food brought up to you if you want."
He was being too nice, acting as though I was their guest. If I couldn't leave, I was no guest. I was their prisoner. I couldn't allow myself to trust any kindness, but I would have to play along for now.
"I'll follow you, but you can't carry me," I said.
He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine-fine."
"And you'd better put on some clothes."
His lips tugged to a smirk. "Sorry, I know I'm terribly distracting like this."
"Shut up before I punch that smug look off your face."
That just made him laugh. He wasn't helping his case, but I followed him as he started down the hall. I still struggled to find any way to mark the path we took.
"Hey," I said as we reached the stairs.
"Hm?"
"What's up with that sword?"
"Alastor?" The flat of the blade rested against his shoulder, and he showed no signs of being bothered by holding it bare-handed.
"You can't tell me that's a normal sword," I said.
Dante blinked. "Oh, was he giving you a hard time? He's finicky about being held." With a smooth flick of his arm he brought the blade down. The air shattered with noise, like all the windows in the place had broken at once. Flashes of blinding blue shot from the blade. My arm burst into pain almost as bright as the sparks.
Dante looked back at me with a grin as I patted down my static-infused hair. "Does it have some sort of generator?" I asked.
Dante looked at me like I'd asked which way was up. "Uh, it has a demon that generates its power, so...yes?"
"What?"
"You were able to hold him though," Dante said, turning to continue up the stairs. "That's impressive."
I guessed he was joking. That seemed like something he would do. I'd heard of demons possessing all types of objects, but they never stayed quiet about it. Each time the church brought me something possessed to kill, I could hear the demon whispering. There was no way a demon would allow itself to be used without retribution. They were too prideful for that.
I bet the sword was just like one of Agnus', made with some weird contraptions like Red Queen. Maybe Dante was too stupid to understand that, or he was just being an ass.
Maybe both.
Despite all that time I'd spent wandering around downstairs, we made it back upstairs in a few minutes. I really was going in circles.
We stopped at the door beside his, which I was none too happy about. The room was fine, a sparse copy of Dante's with gray bedding. "Why am I next to you?" I asked.
"In case you need anything," he said.
That was a blatant lie, but I kept my mouth shut. I even stayed in the room when he went to change and fetch us food. I was hungry enough not to try running again, and though the rabbit he brought back would have looked unappetizing any other time, I picked the little bones clean. The wine was harder to force myself to drink. Dante laughed every time the rotten taste made me gag. I could have asked for water, but I wasn't going to let him make fun of me further.
I wished he would leave so I could free my arm for a bit. Damned thing was itching so bad I kept flexing my hand open and shut.
"That armor doesn't seem very comfortable," Dante said around the rim of what must have been his fifth glass of wine. I was feeling fuzzy after one.
"It's fine," I said.
"Do you always wear it?"
"Yes."
Short responses would have been off-putting to any normal person, but Dante may have been the least reasonable person I'd ever met. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "So do you really believe all this stuff about you being divine?"
No one in Fortuna would have even considered asking me something like that. Being a heretic was generally unpopular there, but people of Capulet didn't seem to give a damn. "Couldn't ask that a bit less condescending?" I muttered under my breath before raising my voice. "Are you actually Capulet's prince?"
His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm one of them. My brother is the crown prince. Usually people follow up that question with something like 'You don't act very princely,' but I don't know that you have any room to talk."
He...had a point. But he'd also kidnapped me, so I wasn't going to let him know that.
"So since I answered your question," he continued, "back to mine. Do you believe you are divine?"
The more important question was why he cared what I thought. "Yes? I mean, yes."
His eyes shone with amusement. "Convincing."
I wanted to take that wine bottle and smack him with it. "Well, I'm not human!" I barked. That much had been obvious since my arm started changing. "No one can sense demons like I can. No one can kill them like I can either. It just makes sense."
Dante's gaze seemed to pierce through me. His smile was gone. "Kid, don't you think it's odd that we look alike?"
My hands curled into the gray bedcovers. Of course I thought it was odd. I'd been doing my best to ignore it. "Some people look alike," I said.
Sighing, he stood and walked up to me. I refused to meet his eyes as he leaned down to my level again. "People don't just share white hair, blue eyes and an ability to sense demons on coincidence, kid."
"Don't tell me you think we're related." He needed to stop getting close to me because the itch in my arm was near-unbearable when he was within inches.
"I don't. I'll just say that my father is a full-blooded demon. He hides it well, but I'm sure you could still tell."
I hadn't been certain through the dizziness, but I'd felt a weight in the air. He must have been powerful. "Sanctus always said Capulet's king was a devil," I murmured. "I thought he was exaggerating."
Out of the corner of my eyes, I could tell that Dante was holding back a laugh. "My brother and I inherited his blood. That's why we look the way we do. People tend to get us all mixed up."
I glanced down to find my armored hand digging through the blanket and into the bed. I felt if I released my grip, I would either kill Dante or… I wasn't sure. I would probably just kill him.
"You think I'm demonic," I said. "Just because we look alike? The first demons were fallen angels, so why wouldn't something divine look like something demonic?"
He straightened back up and spun on his heel to take a few lazy steps. His usual drawl returned to his voice. "That's a neat argument. Did your church tell you that? I bet Dad would get a kick out of it. Probably how they justify their 'God,' eh?" He waved his hand as though to brush away the topic. "Anyway, you said you can sense demonic power. So can I."
"If I were a demon, why would I fight demons?" I asked flatly.
"You're not a demon," he said, shrugging. "You may be demonic, but you've chosen to fight them instead of become one of them."
It occurred to me that I should have been frightened by him and his family if they were demons. But he was just so annoying. I didn't see how anyone could be afraid of him. His father and brother didn't seem frightening either from what I could remember, though that wasn't much.
"Whatever," I said. "Are you done? I want to sleep."
I didn't. I just wanted him gone.
Putting on what I guessed was supposed to be a puppy-dog look, he sighed and turned for the door. "Fine-fine. I'll let you sleep, but if you get lonely, I'm next door."
I was able to release my hold on the bed with him farther away, though I'd torn quite the hole in it. "I've been stuck with you all day," I grumbled. "I don't think I'll ever be lonely again. If I never see you again, it'll be too soon."
"You really know how to charm a guy. Goodnight, Nero," he said before slipping through the door.
"Goodnight," I sighed in relief, letting my shoulders fall slack. It was the first time I felt like I could breathe since the demons attacked.
My armor clattered to the floor after I released the latches. As soon as it fell away, the light from my arm brought a glow to the whole room. I'd never seen it so bright, a pulsing, white-blue. It was probably trying to warn me about the nearby demons. Too late for that.
After letting my arm breathe for a few minutes, I decided it wasn't going to stop being any less irritating. The room dimmed again as I slipped the glove and plating back on and cinched it into place. Sleeping in it was a pain in the ass, but I didn't trust Dante not to barge in as he pleased.
Luckily, that arm didn't sweat, but I still smelled like a goddamn horse all over. The rest of the armor did leave me covered in dried sweat. Not to mention all the dirt that damn horse had kicked up in my face. I almost wished I'd taken Dante up on that offer for a bath. Almost. A little dirt never killed anyone, but I was certain Dante had killed plenty.
I was exhausted enough that falling asleep was no issue. Waking up, however, reminded me how utterly desperate I was to bathe. I felt like I'd rolled around in a pigsty. I was gross. This was all Dante and that horse's fault.
I needed to find somewhere to bathe, not that I wanted anything to do with being naked in this hell castle, but I was desperate. I rolled out of bed to find early morning light streaming in through the small windows. It showed off what a mess my clothes had become. Fortuna's white uniform was pretty and all, but it seemed to attract dirt and mud the moment I stepped outside the castle. This was by-far the worst I'd ever seen it, though. I wanted to blame the horse for that too, but falling on my ass several times was a likely contributor.
Hoping to avoid Dante, I made quick work of straightening my bed and rushed downstairs. More people dotted the halls at this time, yet they still didn't spare me a second glance. I wondered if some dirty stranger in an enemy uniform was a common sight. I'd never had so many people see my face, but to them, I was nothing notable. Perhaps I shouldn't have felt so relieved.
Before I could even start my search for a bath and the exit, I jolted at a voice calling behind me. "Ah, Your Highness, you're up."
I spun to find the man I could only recall seeing as a purple blur the day before. And, damn, he was wearing an excessive amount of purple, like he'd been dunked in the red wine we had last night. He also wore a monocle, which stupid as the thing looked, I did wonder how he kept it in place. He wasn't quite as tall as Dante, but he was a head above me. From my vague recollections of yesterday, I remembered Dante calling him "Dad."
Dante had also called him a demon, but he was unlike any demon I'd been near. As he walked toward me, my arm reacted with a frenzy, like that sword's lightning had gone off inside it. My other hand shot to my arm to hold it down. Its pulse matched my racing heart until I felt certain either my arm or heart would burst.
Then, all at once, it stopped. My arm instead felt leaden, the air itself heavier. I looked up to see the king stopped a few paces away. His gaze flicked up from my arm to meet my eyes. "Apologies," he said. "I prefer to keep my energy hidden around the humans here, but it seems to trouble you."
"What?" was all I could manage.
A calm smile graced his features. "I've smothered your senses a bit is all. Do not think too much on it."
That made me want to ask more questions, but he gave me no time to voice them.
"I've realized I was so caught up yesterday that I never did properly introduce myself. You may call me Sparda." He bowed his head in greeting as I worked to line up a coherent thought.
"You're the king?" I asked. Stupid question, but I was still too dazed for much else.
His smile faded. "That's what I'm told. Could I have your name?"
Giving your name out to demons was generally a bad idea. Dante already had it, though, so I doubted things could get much worse.
"Nero," I said.
"It is a pleasure, Nero." His smile returned, nothing like Dante's. Sparda's was friendlier, like how the maids back home greeted me. "Would you care to come to breakfast with me? Dante never wakes in time."
"I was hoping for a bath," I mumbled, scratching at my nose with the clawed tips of my armor.
"I will have one drawn for you while you eat."
I understood then that his smile veiled a threat. He was only asking to be polite. I didn't have a choice. Demons didn't like to take no for an answer, so I should have anticipated the same from him.
I followed him to a massive dining hall with a few people eating or milling about. He sat us alone at the edge of a table as I was starting to wish Dante would make one of his obnoxious appearances. A young woman brought us plates and nodded when Sparda asked for a bath for me.
"You seem nervous," Sparda said once she'd left.
I couldn't imagine where he'd gotten that idea. I sat up straight in my chair, so straight I couldn't get myself to move. I stared at my food instead. "I've never eaten breakfast with a demon," I admitted.
He nodded. "On the whole, I would not recommend it. But I mean you no harm. I am working to have you returned to Fortuna, in exchange for reparations, of course."
That was just a nice way of saying they were holding me for a ransom. Forcing myself to grab my fork, I poked at whatever it was they had brought me for breakfast. Cheese and… some sort of fruit? At least I recognized the bread.
"Why aren't you holding me in a dungeon or something?" I asked. "I'm your prisoner after all."
"I see no point. Your only crime was trespassing unaware, and you killed some demons for us. As long as you cause no trouble, you are welcome to move about the castle as you wish. Besides, we don't have a dungeon."
I thought all castles had dungeons. Mine did. I had to suppress a shudder just thinking about it. So many people went down there and few came back. The idea that a demon king didn't have one was absurd, but maybe he killed most prisoners.
"So you are a demon?" I asked.
"Yes," he said as though I'd asked if he liked his food.
"And Dante is…?"
"He is half demon. As is Vergil."
"Vergil?"
"Ah, I suppose you were not properly introduced to him either. He is my other son."
"Oh, the crown prince." Dante had mentioned him. He must have been the angry blue blur from yesterday.
Sparda nodded. As I watched him, he ate the same plate as I did. Demons could eat normal food, but…
"So do you eat people?" I asked.
His hand slapped across his mouth, but his shoulders still bounced with laughter. That had to be a yes. He definitely ate people.
"Is that what your church says about me?" he asked from between his fingers. His eyes shone with the same amusement as Dante's always did. "For the record, I do not, but I almost appreciate your church making me more formidable than I am."
"The church didn't say that," I grumbled. "That's just what demons do. Everyone knows that."
"Demons vary greatly," he said.
"Demons kill people. It doesn't matter what variety they come in. That's what they do." I couldn't stop myself from glaring at him, though his gaze remained steady.
"I will concede that killing humans is the goal of many demons. I will not argue that a majority of demons are worthy of anything more than a quick death, but demonic power can be harnessed in ways that aid humanity. Humans themselves can also use it for horrible misdeeds." He looked to my hidden arm, frowning.
Like he had any room to judge me. He didn't know anything. He was a demon, and a king at that. He controlled thousands of humans, the bastard. He was only right when he said demons deserved death, and I would kill him. I'd-
"Are you alright?"
Like the night before, I felt as though I reopened my eyes, once again met with the endless stare of cold blue.
"Yes," I said. Though I could feel my arm pulsing again, it was my normal arm this time. I looked down to find my fist covered in water and shards of glass.
"I will venture to say otherwise," Sparda said. His hands closed over mine, and the heaviness in the air pressed down on me like a blanket. Despite every part of me screaming to pull my hand away, I allowed him to open my fist and pluck the shards of glass from my skin. Ribbons of blood trailed down my arm and dripped to the table. I bit my tongue to subdue the pricks of pain, though Sparda was so deft that it didn't linger.
"Are you prone to bouts of anger?" he asked as he whipped his cravat from around his neck and tied it around my hand.
"No more than anyone else, I guess." That wasn't entirely true, but the stabbing myself with bits of glass was new. Now that I thought about it, though, I hadn't taken my medicine last night. I couldn't. I'd left it in Blue Rose's saddle.
Credo was going to be spitting mad when I got back.
I stopped myself from telling Sparda. I didn't need a demon knowing I was ailing in any way, even if he was willing to take care of my wounds. Demons never aided anyone without expecting something in return.
"Make sure you clean those cuts out when you bathe," he said. "I will have proper bandages brought to you, though if you find yourself bleeding greatly, please do not keep your hand in the water."
I stared at my hand, at his fancy silk cravat soaking up my blood. "I'll need a change of clothes," I murmured.
"Ah, you're right. I'll see to it that some are brought to you. We'll have your uniform washed as well."
Demons never aided anyone without expecting something in return.
But I didn't know what he wanted from me.
Sometimes you just have so many feelings, you just black out and injure yourself or others. It happens to the best of us.