Work Text:
The clashing of steel drifts along the sea breeze as Vergil blocks a heavy strike with the Yamato, instantly retaliating with his own lung towards Nero. They have been sparing for a couple of hours in Fortuna’s morning sun, his coat long since removed when he started to work up a light sweat. They regularly meet up every week to train and spar with no restraints. It is times like this that make Vergil feel like a competent father, teaching his son actual discipline with the blade. Usually that is the only goal in mind, but on this particular morning his thoughts keep turning to you, his lovely rose.
Your brilliant smile, your blushing face, your lyrical voice…every detail about you have been haunting him relentlessly for days now. It is always like this after he sees you at the book café. It used to aggravate him when he found himself thinking about you, berating himself that you have no business being in his thoughts. But now…he has accepted that you have caught him with your vivacious beauty. Seeing you is one of the few occasions he looks forward to, sometimes lamenting after leaving your company that it was not enough.
A particularly hard stinger takes him by surprise as he quickly blocks it at the last second. It still knocks him back though, making him slide back in the course sand of the beach. He huffs as he takes up position with the Yamato, desperately trying to block you from his mind as he prepares his next strike. Nero tilts his head in obvious confusion as he readjust his grip on Red Queen.
“What the hell is up with you? It’s not like you to space out, old man.”
Vergil glares harshly at his son before disappearing in a blue flash, suddenly standing in front of Nero and giving him a firm strike with the pommel of his sword. Nero grunts as he falls backwards before he recovers and brings his sword around to guard his front. Vergil spins the Yamato with a flourish as he takes on an offensive stance, crouching low as he positions his blade over his shoulder.
“That’s no way to speak to your father.”
Nero rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say…old man.”
Vergil lunges forward and unleashes an onslaught of attacks, using his irritation to fuel his determination to stay focused on training with his son and not on you. Nero’s eyes widen as he barely blocks the series of blows, panting heavily as he backs away when it is over.
“You uh…doing okay?” he asks hesitantly.
“I’m fine, Nero,” Vergil replies curtly.
“Riiiiiight.”
A familiar silence falls between them as they continue their training along the beach. Vergil is grateful that he is able to keep his head in the fight this time. These weekly sessions are another occasion Vergil looks forward to, helping him figure out what it means to be a father. A bond has slowly taken form between him and his son since coming back from hell…it may be a little precarious and reluctant, but considering all that he put Nero through he is still shocked that it even formed at all. He feels his chest swell with pride when Nero displays an impressive series of strikes much like his own, causing him to hold nothing back as he blocks it. Vergil lets out a heavy pant as he regards his son’s sweaty form.
“You’re improving,” he observes, sounding mildly satisfied.
“I damn well better with how hard you push me,” Nero remarks with an irritated huff.
“Without strength you-”
“You can’t protect anything,” Nero finishes verbatim. “Yeah, I know.” They both stand there quietly, the late morning sea breeze helping them cool off after a strenuous training session. It is in these moments that Vergil struggles with internally. His intuition tells him that he should say something, but his mind never seems to be able to come up with the words that should be said. Nero seems to be struggling as well though, his face expressing uncertainty as he stares at the horizon beyond the shore. The mutual silence is broken when Nero’s phone loudly vibrates. He takes it out and checks it, sighing as he types something and puts it back in his pocket.
“Well, I better head back…Kyrie is freaking out over a wedding emergency and needs help with the kids.”
Vergil quirks an eyebrow. “It must be quite the quandary if it has Kyrie worried.”
“Tsk, yeah…the florist she hired to do the flowers for our big day went bankrupt and suddenly closed. So now she’s scrambling to find a place that will take us on such short notice.”
Vergil only has to ponder for a moment before you and your flowers come to mind. Nero and Kyrie have been looking forward to finally having a wedding ceremony now that things have calmed down. The Devil May Cry crew has helped them towards that goal in some way. He is at a lose on what to do for them, not really knowing what is proper for the father to provide in that situation. But maybe…suggesting your shop will help.
“Will a online shop suffice?”
Nero’s eyes widen in shock. “What do you know about online shopping?”
Vergil glares at his son. “I happen to be acquainted someone that runs an online business selling flowers. She might be able to help you with your predicament.”
“She?” Nero inquires as his eyes narrow curiously. Vergil’s eyes turn icy as his glare hardens and a low rumbling growl escapes his throat. Nero takes the hint to back off, raising his hands up in mock defense. “Whoa! Okay, okay…does this business have a name?”
Vergil can feel the corners of his mouth twitch, but he quickly suppresses the urge to smirk. “Flower Showers.”
Nero must have seen the slight smirk appear because he raises his eyebrows in total amazement. Vergil just disregards his son’s expression, opting to pretend that nothing was amiss. Nero lowers his brows and rubs the back of his neck, mulling over his father’s suggestion. “Huh…well,” he says as his gives one affirmative nod. “Alright then. I’ll let Kyrie know and we’ll look it up.” He straps Red Queen behind his back and rolls his shoulders as he turns to go. He pauses and looks over at Vergil, uncertainty clouding his face once more before it suddenly clears.
“Thanks…Dad.”
Nero’s voice is so soft that Vergil could have easily missed it among the sounds of the beach. Hearing his son refer to him as his father aloud makes his chest swell with pride once more, along with the feeling of joy at reaching a point where Nero has warmed up to him a little bit more. That urge to speak is back, but when he racks his brain for the proper words to convey his thoughts nothing comes to mind once more. All he can do is stare at his son as he allows his lips curve into a grateful smile.
It must be enough for Nero since he gives his father a sincere grin before turning back and walking away, raising his hand to wave good-bye as he heads for the Devil May Cry van. Vergil watches him step into the vehicle, hearing the distinct ruckus of Nico’s banter burst through the air. The van lurches forward as it speeds away at what is clearly an unsafe velocity. Vergil allows himself to close his eyes and take a deep breath, committing this moment to memory as he sheaths the Yamato. He turns to stare at the beach front as he thinks of you, knowing for certain that would do your utmost to help Nero and Kyrie.
His thoughts comes to a screeching halt as he becomes aware of what he has done. You are potentially going to meet his son, which normally would not bother him if it was not for one small problem…he has not informed you that he is a father. In fact, you do not even know he has a younger twin brother. Vergil furrows his brow in aggravation at this predicament. He remembers that he told you about his father and mother, and that they are no longer living. He did not mention the rest of his family because he did not want to overwhelm you after coming forth about his demonic heritage. He also wants just a bit more time before the rest of his family and crew are aware of your presence in his life before the inevitability of their curious questions and incessant need for prying into his private affairs.
Vergil lets out grumbling sigh of resignation as he grabs his coat and reaches for his phone. He scrolls through his contacts until he reaches your name. It has been awhile since you left him your number with the little bundle of forget-me-nots and he has yet to call you. In truth, he abhors talking on the phone, not being able to read the expression of the person he is conversing with is highly disconcerting to him. But this cannot wait until the next engagement at the book café since there is a chance you could find out beforehand. The very thought of that possibility happening strengthens his revolve as he presses the call button. He brings the phone up to his ear as he continues to distantly stare out at the ocean, his grip on the Yamato tightening as it rings and rings…until it finally connects and your sweet voice enters his ear.
“Hello?”
“Y/N.”
“Vergil?” You sound surprised, but then your voice eases into excitement. “Hey! How’re you doing?”
What do I say? His heart races as his mind struggles with a response. “I’m well,” he eventually says aloud, instantly regretting it as there is a breathy pause on your side of the line.
“Oh! Uh…good.”
You should have asked her how she was doing as well, you imbecile. Vergil grits his teeth as he steadies his voice to remain cool and calm. “I’m calling because…I wanted…I need to…” A frustrated growl leaves his throat as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is futile…may I speak with you in person?”
“I see you don’t much like talking on the phone, huh?” you softly tease, a small giggle bubbling through your words.
Vergil huffs indignantly. “It’s infuriating.”
“Well, you’re always welcome in my home and garden, Vergil.”
The warm sensation that is always present when you are around blooms in his chest. “Very well,” he murmurs as he lowers his hand from his scowling brow. “I’ll be there post-haste.”
“See you then,” you murmur, elation evident in your voice before ending the call.
Vergil lowers the phone, smiling softly at the screen before putting on his coat and stowing his phone back in his pocket. He lifts the Yamato and pops the hilt of the sword free, unsheathing it to swiftly open a portal with two precise slashes. As the portal rips open he sheaths his sword and steps through, coming upon an open field just outside the city’s perimeters. If someone had told him that one day he would take note of places where wild flowers grow he would have scoffed at them. But here he is, surveying the area for any sign of blossoms in earnest until he spots what he is looking for: a patch of garden daisies.
A part of him chastises himself as his keen eyes inspect the white flowers with scrutiny, questioning why he is even allowing himself to do this. That part of him is silenced when the image of your smiling face enters his mind, the glorious prize he knows he will receive when he presents you with these flowers. He summons a sword and cuts only the exceptionally pristine daisies from the grassy ground. This should do nicely, he mentally assures himself, only the best blooms for my lovely rose. A confident smirk settles on his lips as he carefully collects the delicate flowers. He opens another portal behind your house outside the gate to your garden. Immediately his senses are awash with the heavy scent of flowers, causing all tension in his body to relax as he reaches for the gate and lets himself in. His acute sense of hearing detects some rustling and melodious singing in one area of the garden.
Vergil strolls through the garden towards what is sure to be a marvelous sight. When he comes upon you he stops in his tracks and just admires you from afar. You are flitting about like a hummingbird around a garden table and a pair of matching chairs, sunlight gleaming off the pink floral pattern of your jade green summer dress. A soft breeze brushes against him as he takes deep breath, detecting your unique fragrance among the floral bouquet of your garden. He is enthralled by your voice as it continues to sing a sweet serenade, completely unaware of his presence behind you. Making sure that his gift is properly hidden away he slowly approaches you. He cannot help but feel amused that you have not noticed that your expected guest has already arrived.
It only takes a few more moments for you to finally turn around and spot him standing there in a cool and quiet demeanor. “Oh frig!” you gasp, the soft song coming to an abrupt end as your eyes widen in surprise. Vergil tilts his head to the side as you realize it is just him and place a hand over your heart. “Don’t you make any noise?!” you ask as you take a deep calming breath. He takes a couple of steps up until he is right in front of you.
“Pardon me for startling you,” he says with a slight hint of humor in his tone.
“Oh, its fine. I know you didn’t mean,” you start to say as Vergil brings his hand from behind his back and presents you his bouquet of white garden daisies. “…to,” you finish as your eyes light up at the sight of the freshly picked flowers. Your hand reaches out to grasp the stems, fingers gently caressing his skin as his thumb subtly slides over the inside of your wrist as he hands over his gift to you. The sight of your smiling pink cheeks as you bring the daisies up to your face to smell their scent has him smugly grinning as his handy work. He knows that you got his message loud and clear.
I share your feelings.
“Umm,” you mutter softly behind your newly acquired daisies with glee in your eyes. “If you want to…go ahead and have a seat. I’ll be right back…with refreshments!” You gesture towards the garden table as you step to the side. Vergil nods and takes a seat while you rush off towards the back door of your home. As he places the Yamato next to his chair your impressive display of roses catch his eye, bringing to mind the night you showed him that you are truly an extraordinary woman. Their blooming petals swaying slightly in the wind puts him at ease as he waits patiently for your delightful company.
He only has to wait a few minutes before you appear with a tray carrying a pitcher, two glass cups, and a bowl of fresh assorted berries. Vergil notes that you no longer have the daises, but you have one of them in your hair. A pleasant warmth rushes through his body as you set the tray down. He barely registers your voice telling him that he hopes he likes iced hibiscus tea as you pour some into his glass. Once again he wonders what power compels you to completely take his breath away as you take a seat across from him. The dainty daisy seems to pale in comparison to your splendor as you take a sip of your beverage.
Focus, he mentally rebukes to himself. You are here for a specific reason, which does not consist of gawking at her like a buffoon.
“So,” you begin as you set your glass down and reach for a raspberry. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I recommended your shop,” he replies as he reaches for his glass and takes a sip of the refreshingly sweet herbal tea.
“Aww! That’s so sweet of you.” You pop the raspberry into your mouth, your tantalizing lips smirking as you chew. “Who’s the lucky soon-to-be happy customer?” you ask as soon as you are done swallowing the tart morsel.
“My son.”
Your hand pauses on its way back to the bowl of berries. “…I’m sorry. Did you say…your son?”
“Yes,” he confirms stoically. “And his fiancée.”
Your eyes grow as wide as the daisies he gave you earlier as you retract your hand away from the berry bowl. You press your fingers against your temple as you let this new information sink in before speaking again. “Let me get this straight…you tell me you’re a half devil…before you tell me you have a son?!”
Vergil blinks in confusion. “Why is that relevant?”
A frustrated sigh leaves your lips as your hand leaves your temple to brush a lock of hair behind your ear. “Because you’re suppose to mention your kid while showing me a picture of them from your well worn wallet and…” Your words suddenly stop as you seem to come to a realization. “What a minute…fiancée? How old is your son?”
“He is 26 years of age,” he nonchalantly states as he helps himself to the fresh berries your provided. As he brings a blueberry to his lips he sees that your eyes are very wide again. He eats the blueberry, savoring its juicy flavor before he decides to break the awkward silence. “Are you quite alright?”
“Huh?” You shake your head as your eyes meet his gaze. “Yeah, yeah…I’m just…coming to terms that the power of Sparda must also include eternal youth.”
Vergil chuckles softly. “The power of Sparda is vast and you have yet to see an ounce of its potential.”
“Hmm.” You nod as you take a huge gulp of tea, sitting the glass back down on the table with a bit more force than necessary. “It must also make you forget about telling your book nook buddy about your son! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Why haven’t I heard about your family?” Vergil turns the question back to you, sensing your rising levels irritation and getting a bit defensive.
You wince as you quickly break eye contact with him, the pitcher of tea suddenly getting all your attention. “Touché.” Your usual chipper voice is now laced with regret as you sigh softly. “Dammit…my mouth is getting me into trouble again. I’m just gonna stop talking before I make it worse.” You press your lips into a thin line as you clamp both your hands over you your mouth for good measure.
Vergil feels his stomach churn a little at the sight of your wilting face and hurt eyes. I must have stumbled upon a sensitive subject, he surmises as an awful stinging sensation spreads in his chest. He abhors seeing you sad because it always reduces his mind to a torrent of emotion, desperately clamoring for ways to bring that radiant smile back or making you laugh again. He especially hates it when it is him that reduces you to such a state. He comes the conclusion that he should first clarify the situation, but he cannot take you seriously while your hands are covering your mouth.
He slowly leans in, being careful not to tip over his glass as he places his elbow on the table and rests his head in his hand. He taps his finger against his head while his unwavering gaze takes you in with great interest, putting on a mask of amused patience as he decides to test just how long you could last without making a sound. When your eyes finally look up they widen a little before narrowing suspiciously. An intense staring contest commences, your eyes still regarding him warily while Vergil continues his gaze with utmost composure. It only takes a few seconds of quiet steady staring until you release a muffled squeal behind your hands. Vergil hums as he smirks in victory.
“I am rather fond of the delightful sounds that come from your mouth.” His smile widens when your charming cheeks turn exquisitely pink. His fingers halt their methodical tapping as he enjoys your blushing face for a moment before he speaks again. “I did not take offence if that is what worries you.” His eyes lower their intense gaze to your soft hands. “Lower your hands so I may once more hear your lovely voice.”
Your face becomes redder than some of the roses growing in your garden as you remove your hands from your mouth. His eyes remain where they are though, openly staring at your luscious lips as they twitch slightly. He slowly lifts his gaze until they meet your eyes once more, now vacant of all melancholy as they shine brilliantly under the afternoon sun. Your vibrant visage never fails to capture his full attention, making him feel fortunate to witness you in all your splendor and glory.
“I uh,” you mutter softly, clearing your throat a little as you go on. “I need to check on lunch. I made enough for two if you want some?” you offer thoughtfully. Vergil tilts his head as he ponders your offer, intrigued by the prospect of eating a meal with you. He nods and you reward him with a small confident smile. “Okay. I’ll be back faster than you can say blue blossoms bloom beautifully!”
And with that you quickly hop out of your seat and zip through the garden to the backdoor of your house. Vergil lets out a sigh of relief, thankful that his attempt at flattery seems to have worked very well at banishing the sorrow from your eyes. You are always so cheerful and energetic, and seeing you so sad made him feel uneasy. He is struck by the immediate notion to find out what troubles you…the sudden urge to protect you from whatever causes you pain overcomes him. What lunacy, he reprimands himself, it’s none of my business. But then he remembers your words that night in your kitchen.
It’s what friends do: talk about their lives so that they can understand each other.
Vergil sits as motionless as a cold statue, trying to process what the hell is going on inside his head. Distantly, he hears the backdoor open and your voice humming sweetly as you approach. When you become visible he cannot help but feel that no matter how many times he sees you…you will always be a vision of transcendent beauty. He still wonders why you insist on associating with a cold and harsh devil like himself, but at this moment he is grateful that you do. And as you announce that lunch is pesto pasta salad and set two bowls down he decides that if you can withstand his briars, then he can take a small step among your modest thorns as well.
You both partake in the meal you have prepared using fresh tomatoes and homemade basil pesto sauce. Vergil does not really eat much, but he admits that this food is rather delicious. He tells you as such and you just beam happily, causing him to almost drop a piece of mozzarella cheese onto his lap. Thankfully, you are looking elsewhere when that embarrassing moment of clumsiness happens. He finishes his bowl long before you are even half way done. You rise to get him a second helping if he is still hungry, but he declines the offer, not wanting you to leave his presence again so soon.
Eventually, the conversation steers toward his son, Nero. He only withholds a few details…such as ripping his son’s arm off for example. He is not trying to hide anything from you...he just does not want to overwhelm you with his complicated family history just yet. But he is honest about not being a presence in his son’s life until recently, and his endeavor to rekindle their familial bond. You are completely quiet through all of this, eyes gleaming softly as you listen closely. He knows by now that you are not one to make quick judgments, but he cannot help but feel agitated by the thought of you being disappointed in him.
When he is done telling his tale you excuse yourself from the table and rush over to a section of your garden. You return with your hands behind your back, obviously hiding flowers despite your terrible attempt to keep your face free of mischief. He quirks an inquisitive eyebrow as you just grin innocently before revealing a handful of pink sweetbriar roses. “You’re doing the right thing by being there for your son now,” you gently reassure him. “And maybe given enough time all old wounds will heal and be forgiven.”
I’m glad I chased after you that day in the rain, my lovely rose, he thought fondly as he gives you an appreciative smile, reaching for the precious roses. If he remembers correctly these are given to express sympathy towards the receiver, a way to show that you will always be there to comfort them. It has been a long time since someone showed him such kindness. He caresses your hand tenderly, enjoying how it always makes you blush as you return the favor with your own soft touch. You return to your seat and take a huge sip of your tea before asking him more about his family. He indulges your curiosities, answering some questions about his future daughter-in-law and the unfortunate circumstance of having a classless twin brother.
“Whoa whoa whoa,” you sputter into your drink, quickly bring it away from your mouth. “Hold on…you have a twin brother?!”
Vergil sighs. “Yes. A younger twin brother.”
“Doesn’t the term twin mean you’re both technically born at the same time, therefore the same age?” you tease lightheartedly.
“Hmph. I was born hours before he was,” Vergil scoffs. “Therefore I am the eldest Son of Sparda.”
“Huh. Next thing you’re going to tell me is his name Dante or something crazy like that.” You roll your eyes incredulously as you set your drink down and finish the last bite your lunch. Vergil just stares at you, his face the epitome of seriousness. You blink your eyes up at him as you chew, really trying to figure out if he is being genuine until you swallow and shake your head in astonishment. “You have got to be plucking my petal! His name really is Dante?” A series of delightful giggles breaks through the air as you bounce around in your seat, your hands clapping in excitement.
“I fail to see why this is so amusing to you,” he claims as he shoots you an irritated glare, actually knowing full well why this has you so tickled. You just continue to giggle and Vergil cannot keep a straight face anymore. He rolls his eyes as the corners of mouth curve into a small grin. “The Divine Comedy was one of our mother’s favorite books,” he states as your fit of giggles die down.
“She had good taste in literature…and it seems she passed that down to you, hmm?”
Your lips spread into a charismatic smirk and Vergil returns it with his own soft smirk. He tells you more about his brother; that Dante that owns the shop he works at, which means he is also a demon hunter. He also tells you about his brother’s foolish antics, his irresponsible extravagant expenses, and his lack of propriety. This makes you laugh, commenting that his brother sounds like his total opposite. Vergil nods in agreement as he admits that they bicker a lot and fight even more, but he is still his brother and he would not have it any other way.
“It sounds like you have a wonderful family, Vergil. You’re so lucky,” you say with a cheerful smile, which falters a little as your eyes stare pensively down at the table.
A moment of silence settles between you two, and Vergil decides to act upon his notion from earlier. “What of your family?” he asks cautiously. “Are they…”
You sigh deeply. “I don’t have a family.” More silence stretches on for a bit before you look back up at him. “Well, I mean…I do or did or…” You let out a short huff of frustration. “It’s complicated.”
Vergil furrows his brow as he meets your eyes. “You don’t have to-”
“Yes, I do,” you interject, bringing a hand up to your chest, placing it over your heart. “I made such a big deal about you not telling me about your son, so it’s only fair that I come clean about my estranged family. Quid pro quo, remember?” He studies you for a moment, taking in your pleading face before he nods his head in acknowledgement. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, leaning in to place your elbows on the table as you cross your arms. As you gather your thoughts Vergil sits back in his chair and gives you his undivided attention. You grab your glass of tea, take a sip, and clear your throat before speaking.
“Well…I have no idea who my father is. He hasn’t been in my life since my birth and every time I asked my mother about him she would just change the subject.” You pause when you put down your tea. Your eyes glisten as they stare at him, not quite meeting his own attentive gaze. “My mother was all I had…until one day she dropped me off at her parent’s home in the country, saying that she’ll only be gone for awhile and she’ll be back as soon as possible.” You release a dejected sigh. “I’m still waiting.”
You close your eyes and Vergil keeps his face reserved as you go on. “I was mostly raised by my grandparents. My grandmother was sweet but very forgetful. Her mind gradually deteriorated until she passed when I was sixteen. As for my grandfather, well…” You laugh softly as your eyes open, staring straight at him solemnly. “He wasn’t the friendliest old man in town if you catch my drift. Never spoke to me unless he had to…and by speak I mean yell really loudly, usually reminding me in between his tirades that I’m not suppose to be there.”
You break your gaze away as you look down at your crossed arms. “I have no idea if he’s still kicking around. I left as soon as I graduated high school and he’s never contacted me…nor I him. So yeah,” you slightly nod your head as your eyes dart back up to meet Vergil’s eyes once more, “that’s my family, or lack there of, in a nut shell.”
Vergil’s gaze does not stray from yours as he processes your words. He notes that you did not mention anything about your mother’s death, so he assumes that you do not even know if she still lives. As for the father…well, he feels a little remorse since he is guilty of doing the same thing to Nero. And your hostile grandfather taking his anger out on you verbally…it takes all his willpower to not show his own rage at the thought of anyone threatening you. He personally would not take offence on your behalf if that man now lies buried in the earth. Your grandmother sounds like she was the only positive influence you had growing up, even with her mind slowly slipping away.
What astounds him the most though is just how lonely you sound while talking about your family. The way you smile, laugh, and even the very air about you is just so sunny, bright, and full of life. He did not see just how alone you really are until now. Beneath every rose there is prickling pain, he thought gravely as a dull ache settles in his chest, his own memories of surviving alone flashing before his eyes. It may not be the exact same situation, but he can still empathize with having no one to rely on to protect you and…love you. Vergil feels even more drawn to you than ever before and he cannot help to feel that he wants…he needs…
“Flower for your thoughts?” Your inquiring voice brings him back to the present. He notices that you have a look of concern on your face. “Was that…too much?”
“No. I’m just…contemplating.”
“About…?” you prod, tilting your head curiously.
“You had such a hard and tumultuous upbringing and yet you are so benevolent and…” Vergil’s words trail off as his mind cannot find the perfect words to describe just how much of a wonderful woman you are compared to how he turned out after years of isolation.
Your lips curl into an insightful grin as your eyes soften. “It wasn’t easy finding peace and stability. A lot of hard work and dedication got me through college…and determination brought me back here to claim my inheritance. And as for my childhood…”
Your eyes gleam with introspection as you take a steady breath. “I remember something my mother once told me, and I always think back on it when I've had a particularly hard day. She said that whenever you find yourself consumed by despair…remember the spirit of the lotus.” Vergil tilts his head in interest as you continue to explain. “A lotus begins its existence in the dark and murky depths of a lake or pond. In order for it to fully bloom it must endure those harsh conditions, pushing through the mud and the muck as it rises towards clearer waters. Eventually, its resilience pays off when the lotus breaks through the surface and its petals slowly unfurl to soak up the rays of the sun for the very first time.”
Your grin grows into a full radiant smile as all sadness from your face disappears. “I endured my own murky depths and I’m happy with the life I’ve made here as a result.” Your eyes sparkle as they dart to the side as you tilt your head playfully. “Especially since I found a book café with a very quiet corner claimed by a certain prickly devil.”
Vergil hums in amusement as his lips form a gentle smile, his eyes glowing in total adoration as they gaze upon you. “I see your talent for insightful floral symbolism must come from her.”
A jubilant laugh leaves your lips as you adjust the daisy in your hair and your gleaming eyes stare at him warmly as you bask in his compliment. You have never been more beautiful to him than you do at this very moment. The more he spends time with you the more he finds himself wanting to always be close to you. He has never needed to be close to anyone, but here he is now…needing to hear your charming voice, seeking your attention, and craving your affection. And the strangest part about all this is that he feels no inclination to stop these desires. He truly wants…he truly needs…
You excuse yourself once more as you collect the empty bowls, turning down his offer of assistance since he is a guest in your garden. As you walk away Vergil’s eyes linger down your body, fully appreciating the sensual sway of your hips. His lips curve into a pleased grin as he helps himself to another ripe blueberry. The soft tinkling of wind chimes and the gentle babbling of a nearby fountain fill him with a sense of peace and tranquility. He is aware that he needs to make his departure soon since he has already taken up enough of your time with his sudden visit. But the inclination to actually do so is very low as he sits in your luxuriant garden.
When you return you have a cell phone in your hand and a bright smile on your face. “I just got an email from a nice lady named Kyrie…is that your son’s fiancée by chance?”
“Yes,” he confirms as he picks up another blueberry to snack on.
“Excellent!” Your body shakes with barely restrained excitement as you retake your seat. “I’ll be sure to set up an appointment with them as soon as possible. Arranging flowers for a wedding is no joke…I hope they like my flowers,” you say as your eyes glint with a little bit of doubt.
“You have the most exquisite flowers in the city,” he reassures. “I’m certain they will be impressed with the variety of your garden and by your talent for tending to such wondrous blooms.”
I’ll never tire of seeing that alluring flush upon her cheeks, Vergil silently muses to himself as you graciously smile at him, your face illuminated by your beautiful blush. You both converse a little bit longer, topics ranging from what kind of food you both enjoy to more tales about his family and the crew of Devil May Cry. Before long Vergil has to take his leave and you forlornly pout at him as you lead him back to the gate. As you reach to open the gate your face suddenly lights up.
“Oh!” you exclaim, looking back at him. “Did you get the chance to read some Catullus?” Vergil nods in response and you continue to stare at him expectantly. “Well?” you prompt, eyes shining with anticipation. “What do you think? Do you like his complexity as you call it?”
Vergil ponders for a moment before he answers your question. “He is rather…eclectically brash. But I do find myself entertained by his prose.”
“Do you have a favorite yet?” you ask ecstatically, looking positively thrilled that he enjoys reading your recommendation as you open the gate for him. He almost loses control over his expression as the corner of his lips twitch at your enthusiasm. He has only read a few poems, some wrathfully vulgar and others shamelessly erotic…the latter ones make his entire body flush with warmth as he could not help but to think of you as he read them. He suspects that was your true intention when you suggested these poems, but your genuine passion about this poet makes him rethink his assumption.
Vergil hopes you do not see his own modest blush as he steps through the gate, but his feet come to a sudden stop as a poem springs forth from the back of his mind. You are still waiting for an answer, holding the gate wide open as you stare up at him curiously. He takes a step close to you and peers down at your surprised face as he slowly reaches for your hands, giving you enough time to withdraw if you do not want to be touched. You do not pull back as his gloved hand takes your delicate fingers and lifts them up as he recites the favorite poem that you desire to hear:
That man seems to me to be equal to a god,
That man, if it is right to say, seems to surpass the gods,
who sitting opposite to you
repeatedly looks at you and hearsyour sweet laughter, something which robs miserable me
of all feelings: for as soon as I look
at you, Lesbia, no voice remains
in my mouth.But the tongue is paralyzed, a fine fire
spreads down through my limbs, the ears ring with their
very own sound, my eyes veiled
in a double darkness.Idleness, Catullus, is your trouble;
idleness is what delights you and moves you to passion;
idleness has proved ere now
the ruin of kings and prosperous cities.
When his recitation is over he bows and gently brings your fingers to his lips, molten silver eyes never straying from your gaze as he softly presses a chaste kiss upon your hand. The usual pink that dots your cheeks turns crimson as your eyes seem to glow with fervor, utterly captivated by his lips as they brush your soft and tender skin. Vergil allows his lips to linger for a moment until slowly leans back up, keeping his intense gaze steady as he lowers your hand. You seem to be at a loss for words since you just stare back in amazement, your deep breathing make your chest bob up and down in a pleasing manner.
He smugly smiles, feeling satisfied with himself. “I shall take my leave now,” he says as he steps back you. “Farewell.”
“Ah!” You snap out your trance as he turns and walks fully through the gate this time. “Uh, yeah! Take care, Vergil. Remember what I said: you’re always welcome in my home and garden. Anytime, okay?”
He glances back over his shoulder, taking you in one last time before he departs. “I won't soon forget your invitation, Y/N.” With that he unsheathes the Yamato and opens up a portal, your exclamation at seeing it for the first time making him chuckle as he steps through. He sheathes the Yamato as he ascends the steps of the shop, composing his face and preparing himself for Dante’s inevitable questions. His son has too much in common with his brother, such as being very forthcoming about anything that passes through his ear. He opens the door and sure enough his brother is sitting behind the desk, nonchalantly eating a slice of pizza straight from the box.
“Hey! ‘Bout time you got back…I hear you might’ve saved the big day,” he says in between chewing his greasy treat.
“Evidently.” Vergil’s tone is deadpan as he makes his way towards the staircase, hoping that the pizza might be enough of a distraction to dissuade any further comments.
“Never knew you had a flowery friend.” Vergil halts at the base of the stairs and he gives his little brother a belligerent stare. Dante just continues to eat his pizza, seemingly unconcerned by his brother’s sudden agitation as he quirks an eyebrow. “Is she, uh…who you’ve been sneaking off to see every couple of days?”
“What I do during my off time is none of your business, Dante,” he replies coolly, though there is slight irritation hidden in his tone. Dante just nods as he shrugs his shoulders, making Vergil believe he has blessedly dropped the subject. He begins climbing the stairs, longing for the comforting space of his bedroom. But Dante once again proves to be insufferably stubborn as his voice bellows throughout the office.
“Is she the one that made the Yamato look like a pretty little walking stick?”
Vergil’s temper flares as he summons a group of swords and sends them racing down towards his idiotic brother, making sure a couple of them ruin his precious pizza. Dante is able to dodge those targeting him, but he loudly laments the destruction of his overly saturated meal. Vergil ignores his cries as he makes his way to his bedroom, practically grumbling his annoyance under his breath. He jerks open his door and slams it shut, taking a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to rid himself of his brother’s irksome questions. He knows this will not be the end of it, and reminds himself he knew this would happen.
After a few meditative breaths he feels calm enough to set the Yamato, which in no way is a walking stick, down against the wall by his bed. He reaches underneath his bed for an ornate box that lies hidden there and places it at the foot of the bed. As he takes a seat next to it he reaches into his coat and pulls out the sweetbriar roses you gave him today. The mere thought your smile as you handed them over is enough to dispel any lingering anger buzzing through his body. He picks one particular immaculate bloom out of the bunch and sets it to the side.
The rest go in the ornate box, filled with all the flowers you have ever given to him. Some he has pressed, learning how to do so from one of the books you lent to him. Others are too big for pressing and have long since dried out. He should really just dispose of them, but he does not have the heart to do so. They are all gifts from his lovely rose and he wants to keep every token of your affection.
Vergil takes the lone blossom, places it in between two sheets of parchment paper that he lined into one of his more heavier books, and closes it over the delicate rose. He sets that book on the bedside table and returns the ornate box back to its hiding place. As he goes over to his personal bookshelf he removes his coat, draping it over a chair while he reaches for his cherished collection of poetry. He returns to his bed, reclining against the raised pillows as he opens a marked place in his book and gives a contented hum as a clove gillyflower lands on his chest.
He picks up the delicate flower and places it next to him as he finds solace in his favorite poems. Every now and then his thoughts would stray to you, wondering if you would like this lyrical poem or if this poem would reduce you to fervent blushes. One in particular line of prose strikes a chord with him, perfectly encapsulating his internal struggle from earlier as he sat in your garden.
Those who restrain desire do so because theirs is weak enough to be restrained.
Vergil desires you. Your vibrant voice, your brilliant smile, your sultry visage…he desires it all. As this revelation washes through him he feels the warmth that has been pooling in his chest rise up to his cheeks. And what surprises him the most as this sinks in is he does not mind that you have enraptured him so delightfully. In fact, he feels motivation course through his body as the image of your flushed face and gleaming eyes when he kissed your hand play in his mind. He will have to deal with his family and the crew pestering him, but he feels more than capable of meeting that challenge head on.
The eldest Son of Sparda has already been secretly seeking the affection you give him with every flower by your hand. But now he yearns to caress your silky petals, to see what delights you and moves you to passion. And if he heeds the spirit of the lotus and endures his own murky depths…then perhaps when he breaks through the surface he may soak up the rays of your magnificence.