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When Vergil returned with a bag full of diapers and second-hand toddler outfits, he found Dante sitting in the middle of the living room, Nero plopped across from him with nothing but his bright red diaper on (whatever had happened to the onesie, it may be best not to ask). Three objects had been spread between them: a slim book from Vergil’s shelves, a slice of cold pizza from yesterday’s meal, and… for the love of everything reasonable and decent in this world, was that Ivory? Fury jolted through Vergil, demonic powers swirling, and he dumped his bag on the ground.
“Pray tell, brother… Do you seek death?”
Dante’s head snapped up and he turned around with his insufferable grin. “Oh hey, Vergil! C’mon, you’re just in time for your kiddo to pick his future.”
“Is the gun supposed to indicate he will one day shoot you in the head for your idiocy?” he asked. “Take it away. The rules of this house are simple enough, even you should have been able to follow them.”
Vergil strode closer, intent on swiping up Ivory himself if necessary, but Nero lifted his head at his approach. His eyes widened and he giggled with a happy “Da’!” before wiggling his fingers at him. Vergil’s steps faltered, his goal forgotten for a moment as warmth spread through him and he waved back.
“Hello, little monster,” he greeted.
Dante burst out laughing, and Vergil fought the flush of his cheeks. It had only taken Nero a second to melt away his anger.
“C’mon, chill out, bro. I ain’t lettin’ him play with anything he shouldn’t.” Dante patted the floor next to him and cocked his head. “Sit down and watch what he picks.”
This was utterly ridiculous. If Nero went for the pizza, it only meant he was hungry now, not that his future had anything to do with food--or, more symbolically perhaps, with his smelly zio. Vergil wondered if that had been intentional, to place one object representing each twin and separate them with a weapon. Was that their future, perhaps? He squashed the idea. He and Dante had found a difficult balance, and if the last few months were an indication, what belonged between them was little tantrum beast they both loved with all of their heart.
“Very well,” he conceded. “I suppose there is no harm in letting this game of yours run its course.” He folded himself next to Dante, sitting on the other side of the three objects, then turned his attention back to Nero and gestured at the strange offering Dante had put together. “Scegli, Nero.”
As Nero’s brow furrowed into a very serious frown, Vergil could not help but think of all the times Dante had pointed out they shared that particular expression and the confused surge of warmth that came with the knowledge. Nero was but a toddler, full of joy and innocence--they could not be more different, he and Vergil. And yet…
He closed his eyes, fighting back the rising wave of doubts. Raising Nero forced him to constantly reevaluate who he was, what he sought out of this accursed life, and the process left him stranded and confused. He hated the feeling, and he had no wish to experience it now, with his ever-confident twin so close by.
The clatter of metal being pushed across the floor snapped him out of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes, excited despite himself to see Nero’s choice. His little monster had pushed the gun aside and into the pizza slice, crawling past it and the book with determination. Vergil froze as Nero reached his legs and climbed up, small hands grabbing the front of his shirt as the boy heaved himself to his feet then flung himself into his chest.
“Scelgo… Da’!” he declared.
Vergil’s entire body stopped functioning. No heartbeat, no thoughts, nothing but the warmth of his child--his ludicrous, pure child--pressed against him, small arms wrapped around his chest as much as he could given his size.
I choose Da’.
Vergil’s vision blurred and he squeezed his eyes shut once more, hiding away the tears as best as he could. He had not realized he was an option at all. Perhaps that was the future in store for him--one in which his little monster surprised him, choosing love and family over all else.
Slowly, his hands shaking from the overwhelming display of affection, Vergil set a hand on Nero’s back to hold him tighter against his chest, then bent his head and kissed the top of his son’s soft, fluffy hair.
“I would choose you, too, little monster.”