This chapter is twice as long as my usual fare, and I decided against breaking it into two, so I hope y'all appreciate my suffering. Now who's ready for some fucking exposition?

I'd never had to buy anything before. Credo and the clergy took care of all that, so the value of coins was lost on me. I knew Credo had some money stashed away in his things, but even if I'd been able to find it, it wouldn't have done me much good. The moment anyone asked me for an amount in payment, I'd look like an idiot who didn't know how to count, stuck with a handful of different coins.

I wasn't going to wake up Credo just to tell him I didn't know how to buy myself breakfast. The smell of fresh bread from downstairs had my stomach growling so loud I thought I might wake him regardless. Since we were back in Fortuna, maybe the tavern owners were making a real breakfast of pastries and jam. The thought sent my stomach into a fit of whines again. Credo must have been as exhausted as he'd looked because he didn't stir even as I slipped out of bed and toward the door.

I was glad someone had gotten some sleep because I'd spent most of the night counting the ceiling beams. That was bound to happen with how much I'd overslept the past few days, but I felt that most of the poison should have been out of my system by now. Other than the sting in my eyes reminding me that I hadn't closed them for the night, I felt back to normal. No more swirling landscapes or unsteady steps. The air did tinge with weight as I headed downstairs, but it felt like wearing a blanket, cozier than concerning. Probably just my body trying to convince me to go back to bed. Too bad my stomach wouldn't allow that.

No one else from our group was down in the tavern, dotted with a couple bleary-eyed workers and only one other patron. That surely had something to do with the sky outside just starting to tinge pink. Dim blue still hung overhead from what I could see through the small window.

The hooded cloak the other patron wore hid much of him. One of the women who I assumed ran the place talked to him over the counter, though she looked like she wanted to shoo him out. At his feet, two dogs sat at attention. They were scruffy little mutts whose pointed ears flicked toward me as I reached the ground level.

I'd seen dogs at a distance before. Fortuna Castle had fewer windows than Capulet's, but my favorite was the one up the north tower, where I could watch the city below as if it were a framed painting. Like the rare times I was able to stay up late enough to see the night sky, anytime I spotted a dog, I was thrilled. So I wasn't going to complain when they trotted over to me. Savior knows what they'd rolled around in, not that I cared. I dropped down to my haunches and ruffled the closer one's fuzzy head. It was softer than expected and stuck out a little pink tongue. If I survived all this, I was getting a dog.

When the second one neared, I had to reach out my armored hand. The contact with its head sent an electric flash up my arm that must have glowed beneath the plating just like the sudden clear blue of the dog's eyes. The castle did have stray cats, and I'd pet enough of them to know that wasn't a normal reaction, but the dogs couldn't have been demons. I would have sensed it sooner. Tapping my clawed hand to the other dog's head, I watched his eyes shine red. The same ripple rolled up my arm in warning.

If they were some sort of low-level demons, I needed to warn everyone. Weak demons could work as scouts for stronger ones. Before I could stand, though, a shadow fell over me.

"Little prince, what did you do to your hair?" came an all-too-familiar voice. My head snapped up to see Sparda, just the same as ever except the cloak that did little to obscure his identity. Though his brow was furrowed, his eyes held clear relief.

"You don't like it?" I asked with a smirk as I tugged on a strand of stained bangs. Seeing black in my peripherals still bugged me.

Sparda's smile struggled. "Well, it's… different. I'm partial to the white myself. I did choose it, after all."

I hoped he didn't notice my wince. I'd tried to forget that his appearance was all a ruse. Seeing what he really looked like under that fake skin wasn't a fond memory. Not that his demonic appearance was frightening. I'd seen much worse from demons, and he was still more on the humanoid side anyway. But if the thing that had taken over my arm kept spreading, if I turned into something like that…

"Are you hungry?" Sparda asked, his smile far from any worries. "I was just getting breakfast myself."

The dogs kept trying to nudge my hands for attention until I popped to my feet. "Yeah, what's there to eat?"

As it happened, Sparda had no idea what any of the things he'd ordered were, and he'd ordered a mountain of food. "How is it I asked for so many things, but they are all bread?" he murmured as I shoved the nearest pastry into my mouth. The cider they served us was thin and weak, but I wasn't going to complain. Still better than everything in Capulet.

"How'd you know where to find us?" I asked. He'd stuck us at a corner table, likely so we could talk without trouble. "Did Dante or Vergil contact you somehow? You got here so fast." The more I thought about it, the less sense it made, and Sparda laughed.

"Oh no, my boys did not make it easy. You were a hard bunch to find. Asking after a group of young men with white hair earned me some curious stares. I thought some tracking dogs might help, but they didn't do much." He toed at the lounging dogs under the table as I slipped a pastry to them. The two devoured it in seconds.

"Aren't they demons? My senses are kind of weird, but I don't think they're dogs."

"Oh yes, apologies. I didn't want to startle you awake with how your arm reacts to me, so I made sure to stifle your senses as I had before." His smothering needed to stop feeling comfortable. "But you're correct. The dogs are Agni and Rudra, two of my guards."

"The small ones?" I'd wanted to say "dumb," but they could probably still understand that much.

"Then you have met them? They do seem fond of you, but they adore any attention."

"And the owners of this place don't care if you have dogs inside?" I asked. Most of the castle workers back home shooed out any cats they found, and the woman behind the counter was still scowling.

Sparda's smile was so sugary sweet that I wondered if it gave him a toothache. "If they mind, they have not mentioned, so I imagine it is fine."

People didn't even need to know he was a king to understand that telling him no was pointless. "So, what are you doing here?" I asked. "Is it a good idea to have the whole royal family in Fortuna?"

The shine in his eyes vanished. "Ah, no, my idea was as foolish as my sons', but it seems nothing has worked out as expected. Would you mind catching me up on the situation? I must admit I'm anxious to know what my sons have gotten themselves into."

"Where do you want me to start?" I asked. The sleeplessness started to feel heavy on my eyes. I couldn't hide the weariness from my voice.

"Before you left the castle. Actually, after you and I last spoke would be good."

"What?" But even as the question left my mouth, realization slapped me in the face. "They said they weren't supposed to be my escorts, so you didn't…"

Sparda crossed his arms as he sat back in his chair. "I was not privy to this outing. I was going to provide you with my most trusted guards as escorts, but please, do tell me of your travels."

Though I wanted to ask if he'd come all this way just to get onto his sons, I settled myself with another pastry and explained away everything I could remember. Talking to him was easy, distressingly so. I knew better than to tell anything to a demon, yet I didn't even gloss over the medicine. When I explained it, Sparda's eyes darkened, but he said nothing. He didn't interrupt once, silent until I ended with a shrug and "So we came here."

When he did speak, the rattle under his words made my arm spark again. "And why did you come here?"

"I'm going back to the capital," I said, certain of something for once. "I'm going to reclaim my throne." Then again, reclaim implied that it had been mine before. I'd always just been the prince, and I wasn't sure I'd know what to do with the throne when I had it.

Sparda breathed a sigh that washed the anger from his expression. "I suppose, with everything that has happened, I'm glad my sons intervened. I should not have returned you to Fortuna. That does not mean that they are not in trouble, but I suppose we'll need to sort things out before I can get onto them properly."

"Sort things out?" That didn't sound good.

"Yes, a fallout is coming, Nero, and the capital is bound to be the epicenter of it all. Perhaps my coming here was for the best, as I want to be able to intercept directly." Wearing a smile void of joy, he reached over and ruffled my hair. "We will take care of this together. Do not fear."

"What's with you Capulets and wanting to get involved? Credo and I can-"

"Ah," he said a bit too loud as he looked at his hand. Smudges of black tinted his fingers.

"Yeah, the blankets didn't survive," I grumbled, sinking down in my chair. "I'm worried about taking a bath, but I'd really like one."

"Would it turn gray if you tried to wash it out?" Though he was clearly trying to divert my attention, I couldn't seem to stop myself from going along with it.

"Damn, I hope not, but it would almost be worth it to see Dante and Vergil, I guess." Speak of the devil. Actually, no, that phrase was obnoxiously too on the nose, but making fun of Vergil must have summoned him. He stalked down the stairs looking as irritated with the world as ever.

What I'd said seemed to have dazed Sparda too much for him to notice his son's arrival. "What?" he said, his eyes glassy. I nodded toward where Vergil stood over his shoulder, and though I couldn't see Sparda's face when he turned to look, I did hear him whisper, "Oh, Eva would be furious."

I couldn't see how anyone could be mad because both twins looked hilarious with black hair. I must have too because it clashed with everything about them. The only thing funnier was how Vergil's whole form seized up the moment he spotted his father. He looked like a startled cat, spiky fur and all.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed as he stormed up to the table.

That terrifying smile returned in a flash. "Nero has caught me up on the situation, and there is little point trying to make me return now, so would you like to join us for some breakfast? I bought so many of these curious breads." I wasn't sure I'd seen him eat one. "Sit down. I will order you some cider." He waved to get the barmaid's attention, and she rolled her eyes so hard I thought she might pull something.

Despite the way Vergil's white-knuckled grip shook against the sword held at his side, he took the seat next to me. I would have preferred he sit closer to his father, so I wouldn't get a sword through me in one quick movement. I guess it wouldn't have mattered either way if Vergil felt like stabbing me.

"Good morning, son," Sparda said as though the tension between them wasn't stifling. "How are you? Did you sleep well?"

"Out with it, Father. What do you want?"

That sounded like a "no" to me, but I couldn't blame anyone for sleeping poorly in a shared room with Dante.

"There's much to discuss," Sparda said. "But we can wait until everyone is up for that. I was wondering, though, did Nero have any more of those spells?"

"You mean the rampages?" Vergil drawled.

"Hey!" I butt in. "I'm right here!"

"I wasn't certain that you would recall," Sparda said. "You seemed so dazed afterward, and with what you said about the poison-" Rather than finish his thought, he tossed his hands up in a shrug. Despite what Dante said, I was going to find a way to hate this man.

Vergil accepted a mug of cider from the haggard barmaid and dunked his pastry in the drink, which was honestly offensive. "There was a moment when we encountered some demons," he said once the woman had retreated. "It seemed he was more in control at the time. I imagine that may have been because he was already focused on a proper enemy. He made interesting use of that weapon on his arm."

"That is my arm."

Vergil shrugged. "Do you recall what happened then? When you killed the larger one of those odd cloaked demons?"

Humming, I scratched at the tip of my nose. "It's hazy. I mostly remember a weird rush, I guess." Punching him in the face came back clear as day, and that was all that mattered to me. With how smug he sounded, I had to bite my tongue to keep from reminding him.

"As I doubt you have a true Trigger, I believe that was as close as you could get. As expected, it's not much, little visible evidence at all, entirely hinging on the arm, but I suppose it's enough for you."

Sparda placed his hand to his chin, frowning. "A completed Trigger in a state like that? I suppose it's possible."

I wasn't sure what they were talking about, but I could tell I should feel insulted. "Trigger?" I grumbled.

"Did Dante not explain them?" Judging by the irritated tinge to his voice, Vergil already knew the answer. "Honestly, he is useless. You recall back at the fort, when you told us not to interfere? What did you believe was going to happen?"

My eyes fell shut as I tried to remember the fight through the drug-induced haze. Even then, the swell of power from Dante and Vergil had been unmistakable, clearer than anything. "There was all that demonic energy," I said as I opened my eyes again. "I thought you might try to jump in the fight even though you could barely move."

"We were aiming to disperse the poison's effects with our Devil Triggers. You can think of it as a release of all that pent-up energy, a form in which your body will mend itself and your demon side is given a face. Because our blood is mixed, it is the most powerful form we can achieve, and it can only be held for so long. Devil Arms can work as a means to concentrate that power to maintain the Trigger more readily."

"Devil… Arms?" At some point, I would have thought the devil part to just be implied. They didn't need to stick it on everything.

"Weapons imbued with the power of a demon. You have already fought with one before. I believe I heard Dante say he would let you use Rebellion, yes?"

Sparda sat up. "He did what?" Disapproval danced behind his eyes.

Vergil continued without acknowledging his father, so I thought it best not to either. "My Yamato is a Devil Arm as well." He held up the sword balanced in the flat of his palm. "The weapons prefer to answer to their true owners, but some are less picky than others." When he held the sword toward me in offering, I knew better than to think he'd had some revolutionary change toward kindness. Vergil wouldn't give up anything without some gain for himself. That wasn't enough to make me shy away, though. Recalling the way Alastor hurt my human hand, I reached for Yamato with the demonic.

Even before my hand closed around the braided grip, a scream erupted through my head. Not the scream of any human or beast, but an impossible, grating shrill like shredding metal. My arm hummed with such violent vibrations that the pain almost numbed me. But with Vergil smirking at me, I wasn't going to let go of the damned thing.

"Loud," I growled, all the eloquence I could manage with the constant noise wracking through my skull. I should have expected Vergil's sword to be as annoying as he was. But as I continued to hold it, the sound faded, and the buzzing in my arm stopped, replaced by a pulsing glow so bright that it shone through the cracks of the armor like a geode through rock.

"Vergil, enough," I heard Sparda say as Yamato took on a blue glow of its own. When the sword was torn from my grasp, I felt as though Vergil had torn my arm off along with it.

"How troublesome," he said, glaring at me from the corners of his eyes.

Sparda rapped his knuckles on the table with none of the subtlety he must have wanted, but it was enough to grab our attention. "I'm surprised that Nero does not use a Devil Arm considering how the Fortunan rich like to collect them, but perhaps we can find one there to his liking. I imagine there must be a stash of them somewhere in the castle."

Vergil's fingertips brushed Yamato's grip. "You never mentioned this before, Father."

"Did I not? Strange. Nero, did you have anything else you wanted to know about being part demon? Vergil certainly knows more on the subject than I."

Sure, just throw me under the carriage. Sparda must have been running short on distractions if he were looking to me for help. After taking another moment to glare at his father, Vergil turned back to me. "Ask what you wish. I do not mind. It would do you well to understand yourself."

As I eyed him, waiting for some sort of trap or snide remark, the only change was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well," I huffed. "It's just weird to think that one of my parents had demonic blood, but I guess you wouldn't know anything about that."

"That would likely be the case," Vergil said over the rim of his cider. "I don't believe you to be half demon, perhaps a quarter, though it's impossible to tell. Father, you met the former king and queen of Fortuna, didn't you? What would your appraisal be?" Eyes like daggers snapped into Sparda, who hid his mouth behind his hand. His brow pinched.

"Yes, though that was many years ago, and mixed blood is not always immediately apparent."

So few people would talk about my family that I couldn't help but lean over the table toward Sparda until the edge bit into my gut. I'd spent years scrounging for information like a rat looking for crumbs, and though Sparda leaned back, he would not escape giving me answers. "You met them? What were they like? Did you meet my brother too? Was he like me?"

"Yes, I do recall the young prince," he said. "I can't say if the two of you were similar. He was quite small at the time, and he hid from me more than anything. The king and queen were… Surely those at the castle would remember them better than I. Our meeting was so brief."

With a growl, I dropped back into my chair. "You don't remember."

Sparda's hand slipped from hiding his expression to reveal another smile. "I'm very old. You must forgive my poor memory."

I let myself sink into a sulk. "Whatever. No one at the castle remembers much either, or I'm not allowed to talk to them."

"Not allowed?" Sparda asked.

"I can only talk to a few people. Credo usually talks for me."

"Credo is the guard of yours, yes? What about the girl?"

"Kyrie? She's one of the chapel girls. We're not really supposed to talk, but we've slipped each other notes and stuff for years, so we've been friends for a long time."

Vergil made a humming sound as he sipped his cider. "Fortuna teaches its chapel girls to use throwing knives?"

She'd surprised me with that too. I'd known she could defend herself, but she always seemed too sweet to hurt anyone. Seeing her attack knights was like watching a lamb bite a wolf. "I think Credo trained her like he trained me," I said. "She's always been kind of like a spy for us around the castle."

"But she was the young woman who gave you the poison at the castle," Sparda said. "And Credo gave it to you as well. Considering how Fortuna has tricked you in the past, are you certain you can trust the two of them?"

The dishes rattled as my armored fist came down on the table. "They saved us at the fort," I snarled. "They would never betray me." Anyone else could - the church and the Capulets - but I could trust Credo above all else, and if he put his faith in Kyrie, then I could trust her as well.

"But they are hiding something," Vergil said. "The way they work together with you is curious, and I cannot place complete faith in them until they are honest about what they know."

If the dogs hadn't been sleeping on my feet, I would have kicked him. "They don't need your faith."

Sparda patted his hand against my demonic one until I yanked my claws from the tabletop. I hadn't felt myself digging into it. "I'm certain they have many secrets they must keep," he said. "As do any of us. It must be difficult for them with how the church makes its clergywomen abstain from relationships."

The more his words sank in, the more my nose wrinkled. "What the hell? They're not like that. Ew."

"Oh," Sparda chuckled. "I shouldn't have assumed, but by the way you spoke of them, they seemed close."

"They're siblings, Father," Vergil said.

I tossed my hands up. "What!?" The Capulets needed to stop proving themselves as a bunch of idiots. "No, they're not."

Vergil, the dick, had the gall to look at me like I was the fool.

As long as the ink didn't stain my clothes, I didn't care about wearing it, but I wasn't sure it would be coming out of the bed linens anytime soon. It had been Credo's idea to use the ink in the first place, so he wasn't allowed to complain if he had to pay the tavern for the sheets.

"I'm up," I called as Lady kicked the door for the fifth time. "No need to destroy property unless you're that eager to see me without pants. Not that I'd blame you-"

"No one wants to be subjected to that, Dante," she snarled. "Just get your useless self out here. Every time you say you're up, you just go right back to sleep."

As I hopped into my pants, I heard another girl laughing outside my door. Seemed Lady had earned herself a tag-along fan. "Okay, but I'm actually up this time," I said. "I swear. Did you bring me breakfast?"

"I don't have any money, so you just get to starve."

"Don't worry," followed the gentle, airy voice of Kyrie. "Credo and I can get everyone something to eat." Considering putting us up for the night put Credo in a foul mood, I wasn't so sure he'd be keen on feeding us too. He looked caught between murder and suicide every time Vergil or I spoke to him, so I had a feeling he would get a kick out of seeing us starve.

"Didn't we come to town to restock on supplies anyway?" I asked. "How could we do that without money?"

I could almost hear Lady's teeth grinding. "Did you really believe your brother when he said that?"

"Well, if Nero's not the prince anymore, why did we come here then?" There was no point in bringing him somewhere that wanted him dead, except to crack a few skulls of those who'd tried to hurt him.

"You're an idiot, Dante. You really want the war to fall on Capulet's head?"

Right, there was that whole blame game. If we were going to have a war, we needed to just get it over with. I breathed a sigh before answering. "I didn't say I didn't want to come. I still want to see the capital and all. Just seems like a bad idea to take the kid with us."

"He's not in our custody anymore. We don't get to decide that."

Her usual glare was settled on me as soon as I opened the door and likely before that. I answered it with the same grin as ever. "We'll see about that."

She gave a noise of disgust before turning heel and stalking away. Kyrie held a hand to her mouth to hide her giggling as she trailed after Lady. Taking my place in line after them, I headed for the stairs. Whatever our reason for coming, I felt certain we didn't have a plan. That was standard for me, but Vergil never went in blind. It must have been eating him up that the whole mission was turning into a mess. But things would work out, even if we had to take on the whole Fortunan church.

I hoped that wasn't the case, though. It would really put a damper on things and wouldn't be the best first impression on the people of Fortuna. "Hi, I'm the neighboring prince. Sorry we destroyed your religion," never went over well.

Nero and Vergil were already awake, judging by the hissed argument from downstairs. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"And you do? Who was the one who spent years eating poison unaware?"

"That has nothing to do with this!"

A third voice, familiar as a hangover, chimed in. "Perhaps we could just ask them."

"No!" snapped Nero, which was about how I felt too. Lady, frozen a few steps from the ground floor, let out a long, slow breath to steady herself.

"What's wrong?" Kyrie asked.

Lady responded with an unintelligible grumble, so I took over for her. "Dad's here."

"You father?" Kyrie's eyes grew wide with stars as she looked back to me. "Isn't that the king?"

Shaking her head, Lady trudged down the last few steps. "I don't know why I expected anything different. Let's go ahead and face our lecture. But remember, I thought this was a bad idea."

Like a doe in human form, Kyrie pranced down and rushed over to the table. Her smile was so bright that it startled Dad when he turned to find her at his side. "So, you're-" Equal surprise overtook her. "Oh, we've met, haven't we?"

Dad laughed, making a good opportunity for me to slip into a chair beside Nero and nab some bread. Vergil threw me a glace over the kid to let me know how annoyed I needed to be with Dad.

Very, as it turned out.

"We didn't have a proper introduction," Dad said. "I am Sparda. You must be Kyrie."

While they oozed niceties, I picked up one of the dogs - Agni, I guessed - at Nero's feet. "Wow, Dad did a number on you two, didn't he?" I said.

Lady poked at Agni's nose as she stepped around me to take a seat. "I wouldn't have thought they could get more annoying, but here we are."

"Unlike others, they have been well behaved," Dad said, unable to hide a cringe as he looked at me. Probably the hair. If he disliked it that much, he must have had a fun morning between Nero and Vergil.

"We'll have to dye yours too, Dad," I said as I dropped the dog back to the floor, where he plopped down at Nero's feet again.

"Must we?" Dad sighed.

Kyrie hummed in thought, looking Dad over like a puzzle. "If you looked a bit older, it wouldn't be a problem. You look so young, almost the same age as your sons. It's amazing." Vergil coughed to hide his laugh, and I shoved a roll in my mouth. "But, if it's just you, and you keep the hood up, it might be alright. We can ask Credo. Just try not to bring too much attention to yourself in the meantime."

That couldn't end well. Dad didn't know the meaning of subtly.

"Wait, why couldn't we just use hoods?" Nero muttered.

Dad looked like he'd aged a few years from the conversation alone. "I will do my best."

Either oblivious or uncaring, Kyrie glanced around the room with a frown. "Is Credo not up yet?"

"He seemed pretty tired," Nero said. "He was still asleep when I got up."

"Wow, you getting up before him – I never thought I'd see the day."

"Hey!"

The cutesy tone vanished as she matched Nero's stare. "'Hey' what? I'm right."

I was starting to like her.

After snatching a roll, she said she would go wake Credo and darted back upstairs. "Siblings," Vergil said.

Nero's claws drummed against the table. "They're not."

Dad cut in to congratulate me on waking before midday, but he hadn't come after us just for pleasantries. I wasn't going to let him feign innocence. "So, what are you going to do about Fortuna now, Dad?" I asked. "Still okay with handing the kid over?"

He let his mask fall away, his smile fading. "You know, Castle Capulet was built close to the southern border to make communications with Fortuna easier. It was foolish of me to allow negotiations to become so distant, but I will speak to whoever is in charge now, and I will make sure he is in charge no longer. I would ask that the two of you return home with Lady. I will handle things from here."

"No," I said.

Vergil shook his head. "You've kept us separated from enough, Father. We are not children anymore."

That must have been the answer Dad expected because he didn't flinch. "I suppose it was pointless to try," he said, "But if you're going to be involved to the end, you must tread lightly. What happens next will be a gamble in many ways, but I believe most Fortunans would rally under Nero over the church officials. The people have been trained to believe Nero is not just divine but also their rightful ruler. Therefore, we should be able to use Nero's influence as leverage to gain him his proper status. We can worry about the church after he has the throne."

Despite more holes than a tree used for target practice, we at least had some sort of plan, but Nero didn't look thrilled. He was caught in a staring match with the table, one he seemed to be losing as his eyelids drooped under the weight of his thoughts. A king at barely twenty without ever seeing a ruler before him – it was no wonder the kid looked anxious about the idea. That would have been the same as throwing me on the throne at his age. I hadn't wanted it then, and I sure as hell didn't want it now.

Dad must have seen the way he stressed the kid out as well because his voice softened. "Do you believe that would work, Nero?"

His chin jerked up at the sound of his name. "Yes, it should be fine as long as I can get the rings."

"What rings?" I asked. "You getting married so soon?"

No one else said a thing as his elbow jammed into my ribs. "There are three main sets of rings in Fortuna," he explained as I wheezed air back into my bruised lungs. "One pair for the king, one for the queen, and one for the king's advisor, who is also the general of The Order."

"As an alternative to a crown?" Vergil asked.

Nero nodded. "They're supposed to be a gift from the Savior, so only the true recipients should be able to wear them. If I can get the rings, I'm sure the people will follow me."

"But Credo already has his set," Lady said. Though I had to think on it, I recalled the gaudy silver bands he wore. Capulet didn't have a crown or anything similar, so the idea sounded like nonsense to me. Then again, everything in Fortuna was nonsense.

"The church let Credo have them early so there wouldn't be a fight over the position later, I think," Nero said. "But I don't know where the other rings are kept. I've never even seen them."

When Dad clicked his tongue, I knew to sit up and take notice. Something had just thrown a wrench into our plans. "So, we need the rings to assure your place," Dad said, "but I doubt the church will give them up so easily, especially if I'm the one on your side. My threats can only go so far if they call my bluff. I do not wish to spill any blood over this, and if your public finds out you had a demon aiding you, that will not be good for your image. The church will be quick to try to sully your name for their own sakes. We must find those rings."

The stairs creaked under another set of feet, and Nero perked up just like the first time Credo showed. "Credo and Kyrie might know where we can find them," he said. The two were caught in some muttered argument, Kyrie pouting about it. When Dad glanced toward them, something seemed to take hold of him. Emotions flashed through his eyes one right after the other, too quick for me to pin down any one until he settled another mask of a smile on his face.

"Nero," he said, turning back to the kid. "I just remembered that I brought your uniform. Would you like to go retrieve it? Agni and Rudra can lead you back to the horses. They really need to change back to more useful forms anyway. And actually, why don't I give you some money? You can take Kyrie with you and go into town for a bit."

Dad didn't know the meaning of subtlety.

Dropping his chin into his palm, Nero breathed a long sigh through his nose. "So you're just trying to get rid of me?"

Dad's smile didn't falter. "Yes. We'll work out our plan while you're gone, and we can catch you up when you return."

Though I waited for the kid to snap and bite as usual, he remained collared, even accepting the bribe Dad handed him. Nero's annoyance amounted to nothing more than that as he stood from his seat. The dogs roused at his movement and hopped up to follow. When Kyrie drew close, Nero went up to her and hooked their arms together. "Come on, the grownups are going to have a talk, and we're not invited," he said. "We're going shopping."

"Oh, boo," she said. "Lady, do you want to come? I don't think Nero knows how to shop."

Lady snorted. "Can the prince function on his own? Sure, if it gets me away from this argue-fest, I'm game."

Credo watched everyone leave as though he'd just been swindled, and judging from the way he looked to us, that was entirely our faults. He remained standing.

"I'm surprised the boy was so accommodating," Vergil said. "I wasn't sure he knew how to follow a request."

"Nero is used to being sent away during meetings," Credo said. "He's rarely allowed to stay for them. I usually serve as his proxy, so would you mind telling me the meaning of this? Is there some reason you're sending him and Kyrie away? If this is some sort of trick-"

"I suppose you don't recognize me," Dad said. "That's fair. It's been quite a long time, and you were very young."

Credo glanced over my father with cold disinterest. "You must be mistaken. We've never met."

Though Dad liked to pretend he could hide his emotions with those fake smiles, the regret that tinged his eyes gave everything away. "No, I remember you quite well. It was the last time I was in Fortuna, actually. Your mother tried to make you introduce yourself to me, but you were quite shy. You stubbornly kept as far from me as possible. I recall saying that I had two sons about the same age who were equally troublesome, but your father insisted that you were well-mannered. He was awfully proud of that. You know, your sister took quite a bit after him, particularly those eyes, and you have your mother's hair. Is that why you cut it off? It was much longer when you were young, Prince R-"

"Enough!" Credo's hands- no, his whole body was trembling. He shook like a thin tree caught in a gale. "You've made your point, but that is not my name nor title. It has not been for years. You will call me Credo, and you are King Sparda, I presume."

I'd known Nero wasn't the true heir. We'd all known that. But someone forgot to mention that there was a true heir at all. Even Vergil was dazed at the news, his mouth hanging open as he searched for something to say. I couldn't find words either, nothing to express all the questions rattling in my head.

Dad was the only one who remained in one piece from the blow. "Does your sister know?"

Now cornered, Credo dragged a chair between us and took a seat. "She does. She has always known. We have long-accepted that we are no longer royalty, but Nero is not aware that we are siblings, and I would prefer to keep it that way." His gaze flicked over us in a warning.

"And Nero doesn't have any idea that you're royalty?" I asked. The answer was obvious, but I wanted to hear him try to justify his reason.

"Nero does not know, and he should not know." Yet Credo didn't bother to hide the ache of sadness from his expression. "I have every aim to see him on the throne."

"And you expect us to believe that the church would just keep a former prince around to look after their fake one?" Vergil asked, his tone more venomous than any bite. "That's nonsense."

Credo's hand went for his sword, and Vergil responded in kind. "Nero is not a fake prince," Credo spat. "He has as much royal blood as your line."

Dad and I both shot out our arms to restrain them from each other. "Slow down," I said. "More importantly, if you and your sister are the rightful heirs, where the hell did the kid even come from?"

"There is much to discuss," Dad added before I could get an answer. "Now is not the time for squabbles. Credo, you should tell us what you can, so we can more readily aid you."

Though his hand remained on his sword's grip, Credo sat back in his seat. "And why should I tell you anything? I didn't ask for your help. You should return to your own affairs. This is Fortunan business."

"Fortuna is our neighbor," Dad said with a fresh smile. "Our loud, troublesome, violent neighbor. All that you do impacts us to some extent, particularly if you start a war. And while you may not like it, Nero has grown to take stock in what we have to say. My sons were the ones to tell him of the poison initially, after all."

Credo winced like he'd been struck.

"And you've already informed us enough of what you don't want him to hear. I hate to use such lowly tactics." He didn't look all that torn up about it. "But I will do what it takes to ensure the little prince is in good hands. Now please, if you would start at the beginning."

Credo looked halfway to chewing through his tongue. I wasn't entirely sure I'd blame the guy if he snapped and tried to kill us. When he did speak, he bit out each word. "I'll suppose it is reasonable for a king to want to avoid a war he couldn't win, but I will tell you no more than what you need to know, and you must swear to me that Nero will not hear a word of it."

Dad kept smiling, knowing he had won this round. "You have my word."

"And mine," Vergil said.

"I won't say anything to him," I conceded against my better judgement, "but are you ever going to tell him the truth?"

"Should I?" Credo asked. A mocking smile curled at his lips. "I know now that it was foolish to lie to him about being demonic, but what good will it do for me to tell him that he's not even of royal blood? I've hurt him enough already. I will not do it again. As far as I am concerned, he is the prince, and that is how it shall remain."

Though I hated to lie to the kid, Credo made a fair point. There was no telling how Nero would react to a blow like that. Maybe the kid would be relieved. He didn't seem thrilled with the idea of getting the throne, but he probably didn't need any more mind-numbing shocks at the moment.

"Start at the beginning, you say," Credo sighed, "as though there is such a simple beginning. I suppose you mean the night my parents were killed because that is the starting point as I know it, when everything changed. That was the same night Kyrie was born. I believe my parents knew of the plot against them because as soon as she began to cry, my father handed her to me and insisted that I hide along with her. Run. Find somewhere safe. As though that were so easy.

"I did know the castle well enough to sneak away, and I was able to hide Kyrie among the many orphans dropped off at the chapel. One of the nursemaids named her, I believe, as my parents were not able to. It's a miracle she survived that place. Many orphans did not, but the chapel would accept any to be raised as servants. It's a dreadful place, honestly. Kyrie deserved better." He shook his head to throw off the tangent. "I couldn't imagine anywhere to hide myself, and I was too young and frightened to try. In the end, I raced back upstairs only to find both my parents cut to ribbons."

He fell silent, his gaze lost somewhere in the memory. After blinking it away, he continued without a waver in his voice. "Sanctus caught me then. His hand clamped down on my shoulder so hard I thought he might snap the bones in two."

"Sanctus?" Dad prompted.

"He has been part of the church hierarchy for as long as I can recall. He is now the true figurehead of the church and as close as we have to an acting leader in Fortuna. Among those who would wish not to see Nero take the throne, he is the most troublesome, though his motivations elude me at times. I believe he thinks he does the right thing, or he is quite the convincing actor."

Credo shrugged, which felt odd to me. That man was clearly the one who had his parents killed. I would have expected more vehemence, more anger, yet Credo's tone remained as empty and worn as before.

"Sanctus's exact words at the time were, 'A tragedy has occurred.' But of course, it was the will of the Savior, and it was all set into motion for a reason to ensure the safety of the 'Divine Prince.' Having seen my mother's child, I knew of no divinity and certainly no prince. If they knew of my involvement with Kyrie, they have never mentioned it. They may believe her dead. I hope that is the case.

"Truthfully, I do not know why they allowed me to live, but I suppose Sanctus saw some use in me. He said the Savior had cleansed me of my royal status and I was now ordained to serve as the protector of the true prince."

"How could they expect you to believe such nonsense?" Vergil demanded. I had to fight back a smile at seeing him so angry on behalf of Credo's childhood self.

"Because I did believe it," Credo said. "Why wouldn't I? Everything the church had ever said before was law, and if the Savior had tasked me with this, who was I to complain? I was eight, and my parents had just died. I would have believed anything."

"And people were just okay with the princes swapping out like that?" I asked. "Wouldn't people have noticed you still wandering around?" I also wanted to know how he could possibly be just a year older than us, but I thought better of asking.

"Much of the staff was removed from service and replaced after that," he said, "but to ensure that I would not be recognized my hair was cut, and my nose was broken and reset. I was also instructed to choose a new name. There's a reason children do not name themselves, but I thought it fitting at the time." As Credo scratched at his cheek, I made a mental note to ask Nero what joke I was missing.

"Once I was in clothing befitting of a commoner, no one looked twice at me. I was just another boy running errands around the castle. After all, the capital held a massive funeral for my parents and myself. I attended it, actually. All of that was forgotten once everyone learned of their new prince. Even without seeing him, the people doted on him. Even now, few have seen his face or even know his name, yet they blindly adore him. It is strange."

"Forgive my curiosity," Dad said, "but did you name him as well?"

Credo's ears tinged an impressive red. "I… Please, do not tell him as much. He has always complained about the name. I was eight. I didn't know what to name an infant. I hardly knew how to hold one, but they handed him to me without much ceremony. I, ah, named him after the color of his blanket."

He shook his head, his voice lowering. "Twice that night, I held an infant, and I could tell even then that Nero was something strange. Honestly, he did look like an angel. Little wisps of white hair around those bright blue eyes. He didn't even cry much. It was so strange, a bit frightening really. I'd always go to check at night to make sure he hadn't stopped breathing because he was so quiet."

"How times change," I said, earning a flicker of a smile from Credo.

"Then you are not aware where he comes from?" Dad asked.

"I have no idea. Only a select few at the castle would know, as most of the old clergy heads have died since then. But I feel if anyone would know, it would be..." Perhaps Credo didn't hate my family as much as I thought because the sheer loathing that filled his eyes was leagues beyond the quiet rage I'd seen before.

Dad nudged him along with a gentle, "Would be…?"

"Agnus," Credo spat. "He's one of those public secrets, an alchemist employed by the church. He's the one who made Nero's medicine and instructed me to give it to him daily. I was warned that missing a day would have dire consequences, yet he refused to tell me what the medicine was for."

Dad leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "But that was after the schedule changed, yes?"

Though Vergil answered my look of confusion with his own, Credo's brows shot up in recognition. "Where did you hear that?" he asked.

"Nero mentioned it when I asked about his arm manifesting. He said the schedule changed, and he started taking the medicine."

Dad might as well have said that Nero fell down dead for the sheer panic that iced over Credo's eyes. "Is that all he said? Did he remember anything else?"

Dad's brow furrowed. "He seemed to have trouble recalling. Dazed, almost. What happened?"

Despite his sigh of relief, Credo's expression twisted with pain. "I've explained enough, haven't I? I would prefer not to dredge up old demons."

"I am already here," Dad said without missing a beat. Disowning myself was tempting. "I do not revel in your pain, but if this has to do with Nero's demonic blood, it is in his best interest for you to tell us."

"You understand that I'm just handing over information that could devastate not only Nero but all of Fortuna," Credo said, too weary to sound commanding. "This is treasonous."

"I think we crossed the treason line somewhere way back there," I said, cocking a thumb over my shoulder.

Dad threw me a glance as an invitation to shut up. "I have no desire to ruin or rule Fortuna," he said. "Nero being on the throne is beneficial to Capulet, but if I am entirely honest, I simply wish for the prince's well-being. He is not one of mine, but he is alike enough that I will look after him as such. If you tell us what you know, we will offer information in kind."

Whatever rest Credo had gotten overnight was gone, replaced exhaustion that looked close to overwhelming him at any moment. "Just swear to me one more time that you will not tell him any of this. I don't ask out of selfish fear or guilt. I ask for his sake. Do not let him remember."

Swearing my agreement to those vague terms felt like making a contract with a devil. And the more Credo explained, the more I felt certain that was what I'd done. Fortuna Castle must have been Hell. I wanted no part in letting Nero return there, not even as a ruler. When Credo lapsed into silence, I told them to make whatever plan they desired and stood from the table. I doubted they would have accepted any of my suggestions anyhow. They never did, and I needed to get out of there. Needed to cool my head. No one said a word to stop me.

I thought I was wandering aimlessly through the dust-paved streets, but some part of me must have sought the kid out, as I came across him leaning against the outside of a rickety shop. Agni and Rudra stood in human form once again on each side of him. They watched like hawks for anything that might try to bother Nero, which seemed to include the birds and leaves.

"Are you done?" Nero asked me as I approached. "I don't think the girls ever will be. They've been chatting up shopkeepers for ages. This town is pretty sad. I don't know what you'd want to buy here. I'm starting to think they just like to leave me outside."

For all the words swirling in my head, I couldn't bring myself to say anything. My hand latched onto his arm, and I tugged us into the shadow between the ramshackle buildings despite his barks of protest. He fell silent once I pulled him to my chest, my arms so tight around his thin frame that his breaths became sharp.

"The hell are you doing?" he asked.

"Sorry," was all I could find to say. "I'm sorry, Nero."

When he let the tension slip from his shoulders and let his weight fall against me, I wondered why I felt worse instead of better. Like a knife had slipped between my ribs and into the center of my chest. "What did you do this time?" he murmured in a voice so thin that the breeze could have carried it away. The kid must have been exhausted.

My favorite idiots Agni and Rudra both attempted to put their arms around Nero as well. "Are we guarding him like this now?" Agni asked.

"Yes, I think we are helping," Rudra said.

Nero breathed a laugh, keeping me from getting onto them. "Yeah, boys, you're doing great," he said.

I hoped whatever plan those three came up with, it didn't ask too much of the kid. Not that Nero needed to know that. He would whine about me babying him. He could handle himself. Of course he could. The kid was as strong as any of us and more stubborn than a bull, but everyone had a breaking point, and I feared all of us were chipping away at him little by little.

I wasn't sure how much of him would be left at the end.

Nero just wants to nap, but he will accept hugs in place of sleep.

Sweats. Hope you liked it. Feed me reviews because I crave attention.