Writing an AU where Vergil isn't evil is weird. I did my best, though. I think he's still fun.

If that boy broke my library window, I would break him.

He'd risen to his toes, looking for an angle that would show him the ground far below the glass. It seemed that aiming for the lower level doors had failed him, so he'd come to look upstairs. Dante needed to get a proper leash for him.

"The courtyard is below," I said. He'd been so caught up in his inspections that he startled at my voice, his hand reaching for a sword that was not there. "It is walled and guarded on each side. Trying to escape that way would be foolish, and even if you were to succeed, do you know which direction to go to reach Fortuna?"

He turned to fully face me, but the sharp anger in his eyes snapped to confusion. "You're…?"

I stepped from the doorway to the bookshelf filled with aging parchments. "You don't have much in the way of manners, do you?" I said as I skimmed the scrolls. Father never put anything back where it went.

"I-!" he started in anger. When he didn't say anything further, I looked up to find him attempting to stare a hole through me. "Apologies, your royal highness. I'm Prince Nero of Fortuna." He spoke through gritted teeth, and his bow was clearly an attempt at mocking me, overly low and sweeping. "You must be the crown prince of Capulet. It's a pleasure." The forced smile did not hold up well alongside his twitching eye. Still, it was a start.

"Correct. I am Prince Vergil."

I felt that was all that needed to be said between us and went back to pulling the needed documents from the shelves. The boy thought otherwise. "I could figure it out!"

"Hm?"

"The way to Fortuna. I could find it."

"Perhaps, though I do not understand your fixation on escaping. You are being treated well, and you will be returned shortly. Father is being too soft with you, honestly."

"Treated well?" he grumbled. "Have you met your brother? He's a devil."

I pulled a dusty book from another shelf and tucked it under my arm. "Only half."

"What?" His head tilted like a curious dog's. "Are you sure you're related? You sure don't act alike."

Examining his expression, I waited to see some sign of a joke. When one didn't come, it became apparent he was just stupid. "He and I are identical twins. Unfortunately, it is impossible to deny that we are related."

His head tilted further. "Twins?"

"We were born at the same time."

"How does that work?"

I didn't have time to sit and teach the boy something I doubted he would understand. "It is of little consequence. You may think of me as the elder brother, as I have the crown. Because Dante has never had such responsibilities, he does tend to act the fool. I would suggest you stand up to him should he give you too much trouble, but he would likely prefer it. All he ever wants to do is fight."

The boy's brow furrowed at this. "Isn't a prince supposed to fight? That's all I've ever done. You're supposed to fight to protect your people."

Before I could begin to explain to him what a pawn he was, Dante came bounding into the room. The boy tried to run, but too late. Dante's arm hooked around his neck. "There you are!" my brother said with his usual grin. "I was starting to think you'd run off and gotten attacked by demons again."

"I'm being attacked by you right now!" The boy attempted to free himself, but Dante was all-but strangling him with his grasp.

Dante looked up from his harassment of the boy to belatedly notice me. "Well, I guess I wasn't wrong. I'm always saving you from something, kid."

"I did nothing to him," I said.

"You haven't saved me from anything!" At the boy's words, a wave of demonic power crashed through the room. When he'd arrived a week before, the power that came from his anger was thin, baseless. Though I'd assumed it to be demonic in nature, it had no true substance to it. Something had changed since then. We needed to be rid of this boy sooner rather than later.

"Alright-alright," Dante said. Despite his relaxed demeanor, I could see the concern in his eyes. "How about we get you some fresh air for a bit?"

The power subsided in an instant, and the boy stopped struggling. "Outside?"

"Sure, we'll go out in the courtyard and spar for a bit. You can blow off some steam."

"The courtyard!?"

Dante dragged the screeching boy from the room. If my brother continued antagonizing him, I felt certain things would not end well. But that would be his own doing.

Father was staring out the window of his study when I returned, his dried quill tapping at the still-blank parchment. Dante and the boy were visible out the window. They appeared to be arguing over which weapons to use. The boy gestured to the practice swords, then to Dante's Rebellion with quick waves of his arms. Perhaps he understood that it would be an unfair fight between the two.

After I cleared my throat, Father sat upright. He masked his troubled expression with a smile. "Did you find them?" he asked.

"I did." The scrolls dropped to the table in a chorus of whispers. "I see you've been making progress."

His shoulders went taut. "I made a draft!"

"And?"

"It… wasn't right. I needed to start over." To avoid my stare, he unraveled one of the scrolls. It was an age-old treaty from when Fortuna first recognized Capulet and its borders. Father's signature had not changed since then.

"If you continue putting this off, Fortuna will become restless," I said. "Why are you so hesitant to return this boy? Because he has demonic power?"

He turned back to the window, through which Dante and the boy fought with clashing blades. Dante was toying with the boy, slipping away from strikes that had an intent to kill, all with a smile.

"I heard some time ago that Fortuna was experimenting with demons," Father said, "trying to make their own, something they could control."

He'd never mentioned this. I wanted to scold him for keeping something from me, but I was too curious to interrupt.

"I thought they would be unsuccessful, that there was no way anything could come out of such a project. At worst, I believed they might summon a demon that would be too powerful for them to contain."

"You believe that boy to be some success of theirs?" I asked.

"I'm afraid that might be the case, which means they may be able to make more like him. Even more troubling, he seems as though he may have been made with some of my blood."

I raised a brow. "And that's not just-?"

"He's not mine," Father said with a sigh. "About twenty years ago. That would have been…"

Just before Mother was killed. I would believe Father for now on this matter. It angered me too much otherwise.

"Regardless, if we don't return him, Fortuna will start that war they've always wanted," I said. "They have been itching for an excuse to take better agricultural land."

"Why can't humans share?" Father grumbled.

"That's rich coming from a demon."

"Oh, hush. I know I must return him, and doing so would be a good means of having Fortuna renew the treaties in a more public manner, but I fear for Nero's safety."

"You're growing attached to him?" Between Father and Dante, we would never be rid of the boy. How troublesome.

This time, Father met my disapproval head-on, returning my stare. "In the end, I will do what is best for the people of this land. That is the oath I took, but if Fortuna is toying in matters that could bring ruin, handing over someone who may be the key to that ruin would be irresponsible of me."

"Then you also expect the boy to go berserk." It was not a question. I believed we'd all come to that conclusion.

He hesitated, his lips pressed tight, his gaze lost to a war in his thoughts. Before he could respond, another wave of energy flared out around us, strong enough to make me stagger. Yamato rattled in its sheath until my hand shot to hold it still. The boy was furious. I didn't need to look through the window to see it, but even as I tried to, I saw only a blinding wall of light, like a massive lightning strike.

I heard the window shatter like some twisted wind chime, but Father had pulled me down without my noticing. He held me as though I were still some small child he could shield. The glass rained down around us as his own demonic energy swelled. He stood and stalked toward the empty window. The red in his eyes matched that of the blood at his back. It dripped from shards of glass embedded into his skin. Within seconds, though, the glass was pushed out by nothing, the wounds sealed.

As I wondered if Dante had truly gotten himself killed this time, I regained my feet. Through the clouds of kicked-up dirt, I caught sight of my brother, Rebellion poised at the boy's neck. Dante's stance was not to spar. For once, his expression was serious. He seemed prepared to kill the boy.

I knew he wouldn't.

For his part, the boy's face was about the shade of his hair, his eyes wide. He had no mind for Dante or the sword at his throat, only his armored arm, which he held tight across his chest. His other hand gripped the arm as though it might try to tear itself away.

When I looked at Father, the red was gone from his eyes, replaced by bleeding worry. Dante eased his sword down, saying something I could not hear at a distance. The boy did not seem to hear either. He took two staggered steps back before turning away. He managed three more steps before he collapsed.

Dante caught him this time.

For the past several nights, dinner was marked by the boy and Dante bickering, Father chiming in on occasion. Tonight, however, it seemed I would be able to eat in relative peace. Father was too busy pouring over an old book to say anything, and Dante was nowhere to be seen.

Unfortunately, my peace did not last, as Dante appeared wearing his grin once again. "I got him to agree to come down," he said, plopping down into his seat. "He said he would if I left him alone."

"So you harassed the boy until he relented?" I said. If nothing else, Dante had skill at getting his way. I couldn't approve of his methods, but he got results.

"His name is Nero, Verge."

"What does it matter? You never call him by name."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you knew what it was."

Father spoke up over us. "I believe his demonic power is just now manifesting, but it is a great deal of power all at once. It is no wonder he would have such poor control."

Dante's story of what had happened was vague at best, but I gathered that the boy's anger had boiled over from Dante's taunting. My brother had been hoping that releasing that anger would ease the unstable demonic energy from the boy, but it must have come out in a massive burst.

That had been enough to wipe the boy out, at least. He had been too weak to stand when I last saw him, but if he was well enough to make it down to dinner on his own, he had recovered quickly. It was for the best. I'd seen enough of my brother fretting for one day.

"Just now manifesting?" Dante echoed. "How could that happen?"

"Perhaps it was dormant and being around us awakened something?" I offered. "Our demonic nature reacted with his?"

Father's frown deepened. "That could be the case; however, I have a feeling Fortuna may have been doing something to suppress his power. He clearly had inhuman ability before coming here."

"Yeah, and that first time he got mad, it wasn't demonic. It was all..." Dante waved his hands in some nonsense explanation for what he couldn't describe, but I understood. "So what are we going to do about it?"

"We shouldn't do anything about it," I said. "We should return him to Fortuna. They can deal with whatever they have brought upon themselves."

Father idly chewed his food, his eyes rolled up in thought. "No, if he's this powerful, I don't want him unstable and that close to a Hell gate."

I looked to Dante to be sure he was equally confused by this information. He returned my gaze with raised brows.

"There is a Hell gate in Fortuna?" I asked.

Realizing his err, Father turned to us with a tentative smile. "I suppose I hadn't mentioned it."

"You did not," I said.

"But it's closed, right?" Dante pressed.

Father nodded a bit too quickly. "It is sealed. I sealed it myself. I would just be concerned given Nero's power..."

I couldn't imagine how the boy could unseal a Hell gate, regardless of his power. For all I knew, Father could have been making this up as an excuse. But if he were determined enough to lie, I had no chance of getting through to either of them anymore. Something would need to be done about the boy.

"Can we train him then?" Dante asked. "I thought a fight would work, but I think it just made him angrier. He was all flared up again when I left him upstairs."

Father hummed in thought before responding. "Have you tried sleeping with him?"

Dante's fork froze in front of his open mouth. My hand found my face. "Father," I sighed.

"Dad…" Dante said.

Father did not take either hint. "Young demons have so much energy. Fights tend to just rile them up more, but sex burns them out pretty well, especially if they sleep with a more powerful demon. You like to have sex, right Dante?"

"Father, please, we're eating." Not that I had much of an appetite anymore. I stabbed my fork into my food over and over in an effort to quell my annoyance.

Dante seemed to be trying to lean as far from the conversation as possible. "I could have gone my entire life without hearing you bring up sex, Dad."

Father - my wise, ages-old father - appeared confused. "Well, it doesn't necessarily have to be sex if you aren't interested in him. As long as he gets-"

"Not the point," Dante rushed to say over him. "Not even close to the point. You've missed the point so bad, you've shot right into orbit."

"Honestly, when has Dante ever not been interested in someone?" I muttered.

"I don't see-" Father stopped short, noticing something across the room. I followed his gaze to find the boy hovering near the doorway. He shied away from anyone who passed by, his whole form tense. My brother's ploy had worked, it seemed.

"Oh, thank god," Dante hissed.

I would have breathed an equal sigh of relief at the intrusion, but Father called out to the boy, "Ah, there you are, Nero! Have you tried masturbating?"

Too many things happened at once. Dante reached across me and slapped his hand across Father's mouth, a plate shattered somewhere in the room, I bent my fork in my grip, everyone went deathly quiet, and Father had the gall to still look confused by all of it.

Perhaps time slowed for me, but it seemed the boy stood there frozen like the rest of us for far too long. The only change was the color that filled his face until he looked like one of those fruits Dante liked so much. The spell broke as he darted from the room. Someone coughed, and dinner resumed with a renewed swell of chatter.

Dante dropped his hand from Father's mouth with a sigh. "It was hard enough to get him down here."

"Father, you cannot yell something like that in public."

He resumed eating. "Is it really in public if it's my house?"

"Just don't say anything like that at all," Dante said. "You're officially barred from mentioning anything regarding sex."

"Masturbation isn't sex."

Slamming my hands on the table, I stood. "We can't have the boy not eating," I said, biting out each word. "I'll take him dinner."

Anything to get away from this.

"I'll go with you," Dante said, but as he tried to stand, I grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down.

"You haven't eaten yet, and you've proven yourself to put the boy in a foul mood. I do not believe you would help given the current situation." And if he came, Father would want to tag along as well.

Despite his pouting, Dante stayed put. As I left, I could hear him trying to explain some form of tact to Father, as though that would go anywhere. Retrieving a fresh plate, I headed upstairs, past his room to the second flight of stairs. I was thankful to find that he had not attempted to break my window. Instead, he sat in one of the library chairs and fiddled with the chess set in front of him. He acknowledged me with a glance before sinking down further into the chair.

When I held out the plate to him, he eyed it as though it might bite him back. "Take it," I said. "But don't make a mess. I don't want mice up here."

He accepted it with a "thanks" I only saw in the movement of his lips. "How'd you know I was here?" he said audibly.

"You wouldn't have returned to your room in case Dante were to follow, and this is the only other secluded location you know of in the castle. It was obvious."

His eyes filled with irritation as he took a bite of his bread. I didn't see why he would ask if he would be upset with an answer. After swallowing, he let his glare fall among the chess pawns and spoke again. "Why did you bring me this anyway? Do you want something?"

"It does not reflect well on Capulet if we return a prisoner half-starved."

"So you admit I'm a prisoner?"

"What else would you be?"

He did not respond, though I understood his intent. Father and Dante did not treat the boy as a prisoner. Truthfully, neither had I.

His eyes remained locked on the board in front of him as he continued eating. "Do you play?" I asked, hardly aware I was speaking until the words had left me.

He nodded.

I should have left, but I told myself it had been some time since I played against someone new. Besides, if I had him distracted, he might be more willing to talk. Taking the seat across from him, I moved a pawn forward. "My apologies for how my father acted before," I said. "He has so little tact. That is where Dante gets it from."

He looked from me to the board a few times as though trying to unravel my plan. When he did make his play, it was one quick snap of movement. "S'whatever," he said.

He clearly wanted nothing to do with the subject, so I changed it for him. "I suppose it's fitting that you play black."

His gaze followed my hand as I made my move. "Why?" he asked.

"Because of your name." I knew enough of the old tongue to recognize "nero" as the word for "black."

"Oh. It doesn't really make sense as a name." His expression sank, but his move came just as quick as before. "Hey, do you hate your family?"

The change in topic was so sudden that I almost dropped my pawn. "You think I do?" I asked. He may have wanted to divert the topic away from himself, but I couldn't ignore such an accusation.

"You just don't seem to like them," he said, moving out his knight as quickly as the rest. I doubted he planned any of his moves.

"I suppose it is not an unreasonable observation, if a wrong one. I may become annoyed with them at times, but I do not hate them." Not that either of them needed to know that, or they would try to be all affectionate with me.

"Is that normal? Like, do all brothers act like you and Dante?" He did not look up. His expression did not change, though my view of him did. Of course, he did not have a family. He'd never had one. That was the first thing I'd learned about him all those years ago.

"I am not sure any family acts like mine, though brothers are known to trouble each other," I said.

"I've been told there was another prince before me." His bishop took out one of my pawns. "So I guess I had a brother once. I think he would have been about your age now, but since he was killed with my parents, no one ever wants to talk about him, so I don't know much other than that."

That did not surprise me. I'd always believed the church to be responsible for the deaths of the royal family there. It was no wonder, then, that they would not want to talk about the deceased.

As I snatched away one of his pawns with my rook, the door flew open fast enough to rattle the board. "Ha! I found you!" the usual suspect squawked.

"Dante, I told you to stay," I said.

"No worries. I finished eating."

That was not what I'd meant, but I was certain he knew that. He strode into the room despite the boy trying to sink into the armrest to avoid him. "Sorry about Dad," Dante said. "Sometimes he's still not great at being human, but don't worry. I explained things to him."

"Did any of it stick?" I asked.

Dante's smile did not falter. "Oh, I doubt it. So what are you two up to? Bonding over games?"

"We were discussing my hatred of you," I said.

"Also a good bonding opportunity." Dragging over the closest chair, he sat himself between us to watch, as though chess had ever interested him before. He complained of boredom when I made him play.

Despite his clear discomfort, the boy took his turn. The more he played, the more it became apparent how defensive his tactics were. I'd expected recklessness from his split-second choices, but that expectation had lulled me into following after his pieces. He didn't want to give up any he didn't have to, and through that, he had led many of mine into unavoidable capture.

It would have been an impressive tactic, but sacrifices needed to be made to win. With him unwilling to give up any piece, it was easier to pick off his stronger ones. Pawns were called pawns for a reason. Keeping them just for the sake of it was pointless.

"So the church raised you?" I prompted, hoping to learn more from him despite Dante's intrusion.

"Not really. I've never actually been to one of the church services or anything. I had a private tutor for that, but damn, it was boring. When I was really little, there were a couple maids who kind of looked after me, but mostly it's just been me and my retainer. He makes sure I wake up and eat and trains me with swords and all that. He's such a nag, but he was always the one who talked to the church council and stuff for me."

"Why don't you talk to them yourself?" I asked.

For the first time, he hesitated in grabbing one of his pieces. His armored hand swiped at his nose. "I just, uh, didn't always get along with some of them." Even Dante's brows rose at the waver in the boy's voice.

Before I could press him, Dante piped up in the chipper tone he always used when he was trying to cover something up. "So what do you do there on a daily basis? Seems kind of boring."

"Yeah, I don't get to do much unless there's a festival. Wake up, practice, study, whatever."

"And during the festivals what do you do?" I asked.

His demeanor brightened. "That's when I get to go outside, kill demons and stuff. There's dancing and food. It's great!"

Bread and circuses were all you needed to pacify people, after all.

"And you have to wear a mask for your protection?" I asked. It seemed more likely an instrument of the church's protection, but I could not work out why obscuring his identity was so important.

He nodded. "I wear a mask in parts of the castle too. Only a few people are supposed to see my face." Crossing his arms, he huffed. "That sort of got thrown out the window here."

"What about when I found you?" Dante asked. "You were outside, and you didn't have a mask."

"First of all, I was wearing a helmet, asshole. My mask was in my saddlebags, and that was the first time I'd been out without a festival going on." His shoulders pressed up near his ears. "They said I had something important to take care of, so I could try going out."

There was that ubiquitous "They" again. I had a feeling he knew little about those in power over him. Given the way things turned out during the demon attack, I wondered if the church had wanted the boy dead. Perhaps he'd become a liability somehow. They sent him with a useless squadron to fight demons that outmatched him.

"Then you got your ass kicked by some Blades," Dante said, grinning.

"Blades?" The boy was caught somewhere between offense and confusion. "The Assaults were what got me. Swords didn't have anything to do with it."

"I don't know if I'd consider getting hit by a tail assault. You just got the wind knocked out of you."

They stared at each other in blank confusion. I could have mentioned the regional differences, but well, I just didn't care enough. "What about your arm?" I asked instead as I captured his rook. "Is anyone allowed to see that?"

All the distrust he'd felt when I first walked in returned in full. He squared his shoulders, his eyes as sharp as Yamato. "No," he said.

"Considering the damage it did to my castle, I find your hiding it to be unreasonable."

"Vergil," Dante said in a warning much like he'd given our father at dinner. The reason for his concern was obvious, given the demonic energy radiating from the boy. Dante and I had been easy to provoke in our teen years. Well, Dante was still easy to provoke, but this boy was something else. He had far too much power for someone with no sense to control it.

Had I the mind to, I could have smothered that power of his with my own. I doubted I even needed a full devil trigger to send the boy cowering. His fire may have burned bright, but it would be simple to douse.

But I would gain nothing from that.

"A deal then," I said. "We finish our game. If I win, you show us your arm." It may have been a simple matter of curiosity, but I knew I could win.

"And if I win?" he snapped.

"What would you want?"

He considered it for no more than a second. "If I win, you let me go." His eyes narrowed in a challenge I would gladly accept.

Dante and I answered at the same time. "No," he said, more to me than the boy.

"Very well," I said over him. "Then take your turn."

Dante tossed me a look that suggested he knew I would win also, but he still did not approve. I was usually the one looking at him that way.

The boy's moves returned to his instant decisions. "You know you can take your time," I offered.

"I'm used to playing with an hourglass. Could beat you easy if we were using one."

"So you play often?" Dante asked.

"Sure, every day. There's nothing else to do for fun."

That explained why I found myself at less of an advantage than I'd anticipated. When he captured my queen, Dante gave a low whistle. I was able to take his second knight in return, but that left me with only my king and one bishop. He had only his king.

I hadn't been played to a draw in years, yet we were at a winless state.

"Start over," Nero said. "We'll play again."

I would have taken him up on that, but Dante caught my eye with a pleading stare. Considering the way Nero's anger had filled the room like fog at the draw, I understood the concern. Now that I knew his strategy, I could beat him easily, but that would only infuriate him more.

"Not tonight," I said. When he tried to protest, I cut him off with a command. "Take your plate downstairs to the kitchen. We'll have a rematch at a later time."

Despite his clenched jaw and shaking fists, he stood and stormed out. It would be a miracle if that plate made it to the kitchens in one piece.

"You haven't been honest with him, have you?" I asked Dante.

"What do you mean? About him being part demon?" Dante rubbed his hand across his forehead, trying to ease his furrowed brow. "I tried, but he doesn't believe me."

"Then you've told him everything?"

"Not...everything."

Idiot.

Standing, I collected the chess set and put the pieces back in their places to distract myself from wanting to knock some sense into my brother. "He'll be a liability if he's not put under control soon," I said. "If that happens, I will not hesitate to kill him. Royalty or no, I will not let him harm anyone here. That includes you."

Dante snorted, though he wouldn't look at me as he spoke. "Like he could hurt me."

"Do not lie to me!" I snapped. It wasn't a matter of if Nero could. That was never the issue. "You would let him."

If that were required to protect Nero, Dante would willingly allow himself to be hurt. He was always like that, the fool. He'd almost gotten himself killed when demons attacked us as children because he was too busy looking after me.

"Aw, Verge," he crowed as I headed for the door. "Are you worried about me? That's sweet."

I considered running him through with Yamato to prove otherwise, but I bottled the urge and headed to the stairwell. As I neared the bottom, I could just make out murmuring voices. One of them was unmistakably Nero's. The other was feminine.

I could not understand what they were saying, but from the bottom of the shadowed stairway, I was able to see them standing at the end of the hall. While the girl wore the clothes of our maids, I could not recognize her. She looked about Nero's age, demure, with red-toned hair. She handed Nero something too small to make out before dashing off out of sight with the plate in her hands.

Nero hid whatever the object was in his boot and backtracked toward, presumably, his room. That put him in my path, which saved me the time of having to go after him.

Though Fortuna rarely used them, the girl may have been some sort of spy. I could not believe the same to be true for Nero. Fortuna could not have anticipated Dante kidnapping him, but perhaps they were trying to use the opportunity to their advantage.

If nothing else, the boy was always their pawn.

He must have sensed my presence, hesitating before he reached me. To keep things simple, I stepped into view. "Friend of yours?" I asked.

"No." He was a terrible liar, eyes averted, arms crossed. "She just took my plate for me."

"And what did she give you in return?"

He flinched as though he'd been struck. "Nothing."

"Then I can confirm that story with her? I'm certain a quick interrogation would suffice."

I'd intended to bait him, yes, but I did not anticipate his eyes flashing red, nor did I expect the staggering flash of energy that had Yamato reacting again. It seemed I'd hit a nerve.

"You won't touch her!" he snarled in a voice far from his own, ragged as a damaged blade. Despite being unarmed, he did not hesitate to lunge for me. I was able to slip out of the way, drawing Yamato in the same step, as his punch smashed into the wall. Cracks appeared in the stone, his fist buried up to his wrist. Armor wouldn't have saved a normal arm from being shattered by such a punch, yet he tore his hand from the wall without blinking. The plating around his fingers cracked and fell away as he flexed his hand.

Like the odd attack I'd glimpsed that afternoon, his fingers glowed, pointed at their tips just like his clawed armor. Scaly red plating framed his hand as well. It was no wonder he kept it covered. The more armor fell away, the more apparent it became - that arm was demonic.

Each panting breath rattled through the boy as he readied himself for another strike. Dante or Father could wait and hope he would return to himself, but I would not gamble. I raised Yamato.

"I will try to make this quick."

Clueless, embarrassing Sparda is my favorite Sparda.