Work Text:
The night is warm but dark, the moon hiding behind the clouds.
This place, this island of Fortuna , is quiet.
And there is a singular light which breaks through the dark. It cuts through the forest, though unfortunately, this is only a beacon.
A beacon of which an armored figure follows.
“For your first mission, you shall kill this woman.”
Nelo Angelo would never disregard his master’s wishes. So, as demons keep adversaries at bay in the town, Nelo follows his own path.
Where cobblestone becomes dirt.
And where forest breaks to a cottage in the woods.
This place makes Nelo pause; its a quaint building, a shadow passing by which ripples across the grass and wildflowers. There is a sigil on the ground and on the door, but no such thing can keep a higher devil at bay.
It takes a moment for the minion of the Prince of Darkness to hear, but he realizes the woman he’s meant to kill is singing.
Are you going to Scarborough Fair?
Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme
There’s a familiarity to this singing—this place. He’s unsure where to place it, what to make of it. But, there’s no time to linger. He has a job to do.
He approaches the home, peering in to make sure no one else is around. The woman wears a simple light blue nightgown, holding a black blanket in her arms. He narrows his eyes; he sees no one else.
Except for the baby.
There’s an offspring in that blanket.
He feels no remorse or anything, certainly not, but there is a twinge of something. He’s unsure of what it is, unable to even place a finger on it’s meanings.
And gather it all in a bunch of heather
(A cause they've long ago forgotten)
Then she'll be a true love of mine
The woman disappears into a room unseen, and then comes back in a few moments later. She lets out a sigh, looking at a bookcase of some sort. There’s a few rectangles on the shelves, hiding away tomes of the unknown.
No one else is around.
It is time.
The woman turns to the window, as if sensing his presence. Nelo hides away, not really knowing why he does so. The woman walks up to the window, and turns her head this way and that.
And sighs deeply.
“Oh, Vergil, when will you come home?” he hears her whisper. Vergil.
Odd. He knows that name from somewhere.
She then moves away, picking up the candle on the coffee table. The lights flicker off, and she begins to move.
Now.
A shriek leaves the woman’s lips, the moon coming out as the candle blows out. She turns, eyes widening at the sight of the hulking devil. Her breathing quickens.
“Get away!” she shouts immediately, taking the blown out wax and throwing it harshly. It bounces off his armor harmlessly, though he glares at the woman. “No! I still need to wait for him!” she cries, moving away.
Nelo Angelo brandishes his broadsword, energy flickering around the awful blade.
The woman scurries away, hurrying to the bookcase again. He didn’t see it before, but there’s an umbrella stand there.
She yanks up what’s decidedly not an umbrella, instead it being a sword of some sort. She holds it up to him in a defensive stance, hands trembling though she keeps her stance firm.
Impressive. But not exceptional.
“You stay away—if-if he returns you’ll be sorry!”
He… this Vergil person.
Their blades clash in a dance of sparks and clangs, the woman showing impressive skill. Someone must’ve taught her before now.
Just… not enough .
Soon, Nelo Angelo twirls his broadsword upwards, her sword flying off and wedging into the ceiling. The woman dodges a downswing, running to a room. Nelo follows, his directive clear.
He’s admittedly caught off guard by the sudden wailing.
The woman stands protectively over a bassinet, eyes narrowed with rage and protectiveness as Nelo approaches.
“You will not have him!” she cries, knuckles turning white against the edge of the baby’s sleeping place. “I don’t care who you are or what your mission is here, you will not lay a hand on him!”
It’s too bad that’s not what he’s here for. In fact, he’s unsure why she’s so protective beyond mother instincts. He knows a mother devil will kill to protect her young. He supposes human women are the same.
The look in her eyes, however, is so painfully familiar it makes the unshakable Nelo Angelo falter. Only for a moment.
Then, there’s only wailing.
Once she falls to her side, Nelo peers into the bassinet. The offspring is wailing loudly, making his ears ring. There’s a small patch of white hair, but that’s all he can see due to the child’s eyes being firmly shut tight. Thick globs of liquid pour from his eyes, little hands balled into fists.
He doesn’t look down at the life draining from the woman. The large pool of blood that begins to accumulate under her speaks enough.
Once he leaves the room, he turns his head to the bookcase. He's unsure why he's so curious as to what kept her attention for so long.
There’s a white haired man beside her, mercury eyes narrowed to a point but there’s a certain fondness stitched in them. He holds the woman gently, where there is a smile on her face to contrast against his glare.
Nelo Angelo step’s back, holding his head as he shouts in pain.
And Vergil wakes up, gasping for air.
Perhaps it’s for the best that over a year ago, Dante literally killed his nightmares. He never wants to remember the first person he killed while under his influence.
All he remembers is colors, blocky shapes with no real meaning.
Sounds, sounds that make his ears ring yet they aren’t distinct enough to make out.
And the pungent smells.
The pungent smells of copper and sulfur.