Chapter Text
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On the day the twins turned sweet sixteen, their mother had grabbed each by the scruff of his neck and sat them down for a not so little confession.
"Devils can not have children. Sparda will always be your father, but you are completely human." she had said.
The news hit hard.
Vergil, who was ever so proud of his status as firstborn heir of the legendary dark knight, grappled with the sudden shift of their dynamics. His world came down crumbling as the floor beneath his feet turned into a gaping maw. His truth had been false, and no amount of denial could change it back to what was supposed to be right. Safety became insecurity, as confidence crumbled into despair.
Dante, mischievous and bright, lost his warmth and will to care. What had once been a vibrant young man turned into a shadow of himself, one lost and adrift. His life had been a lie, at least most of it, so why bother? What was there to fight for if everything could crumble in one single second? How many more lies would he have to unearth until he could sail the ship of Theseus?
It did, however, explain where their brown hair came from. They had their mother's light hazel eyes, where he had a frosty blue. Their father-not-father almost looked like them, mostly his nose and the elegant yet sharp eyebrows. Whoever their biological father was, Eva and Sparda must have spent a long time searching for a lookalike. Both were adamantly sure that, had they been Sparda's blood, they would have been born as silvery white as him. Knowing where their far too human coloring came from was a bittersweet thing and it was completely unacceptable.
They grieved in their own ways until Dante had an idea. Of course it had been Dante. Vergil would have never come up with anything this recklessly simple. The twin of chaos, the younger brother may be, but that did not mean all of Dante's plans were ultimately destined to be failures. Even chaos itself turned into entropy every once in a while. The plan was rough and wild, but its passion was inspiring and it had potential. Vergil could work with that.
Sparda was their father. The two accepted nothing else. They would accept nothing else.
Nature would have to get bent. Dante had the idea, and Vergil had the reach to make it possible. If there ever was a time to set their differences aside and work together then this was it. The rules of their known universe be damned, they would do the impossible. Naturally they did so behind their parents' backs. Few things were as scary as a worried Sparda or a disappointed Eva.
"I do not think this is what mother meant when she said we should do more 'brotherly bonding', Dante." the refined elder twin teased in his usual bored tone, completely at ease.
"What mom doesn't know about won't make her mad, Verge. Now, can you pass me the cyanide?" the younger shot back, sweet yet biting like acid mixed with sugar.
Their latest attempt at injecting demonic blood into a living being to change it was a complete failure… again. The rat that Dante had caught squirmed in the jar the brothers had put it in. Cursed blood seemingly ate away at its form until only thin ribbons of flesh were left. On those grew too many teeth. When teeth grew on teeth, Dante decided to put it out of its misery.
"Perhaps," Vergil carefully pondered, "a conversion via blood transfusion is impossible."
"If you have a better idea I'm all ears." Dante huffed, annoyed by yet another failed attempt.
Vergil tilted his head, weighed his options, and replied, "actually, I do."
He waited patiently for Dante to finish handling the lethal poison before he continued. Their goal was to be the sons of Sparda – present tense and plural. For that they would have to live through this. He wanted all of his brother's attention on himself to avoid any unfortunate accidents. There was no way of telling how the younger brother would react to his proposal, so he might as well play this safe.
"There is a place called Fortuna. I have been informed that we might find what we seek there."
"And your source is trustworthy?"
Vergil scoffed, "you insult me, Dante."
And in return, Dante chuckled, "as if you would settle for anything less than perfection. Of course. How far is it? We can get mom to agree to a weekend 'camping trip' but not a month long vacation."
They shuffled around to hide their makeshift laboratory from their parents. After years of constant sibling rivalry and miniature battles, neither Sparda nor Eva would ever assume they were working together. So, when one brother stashed half of the project in his room, and the other the other half in his, the parents were none the wiser. In hindsight it was a miracle they could even do this without any more fighting. Perhaps they were bonding after all.
Once all of the evidence had been removed, Vergil crossed his arms and replied, "A weekend won't be enough. We will need at least a week, but I have thought of an acceptable excuse already. Mother will not suspect a thing, and neither will father."
"Eh?"
"Fortuna is home to the Order of the Sword, a group that worships our father, as well as what is likely the world's largest collection of demonic lore."
When Dante groaned and rolled his eyes, Vergil pulled out his secret weapon with a smirk.
"The island is also known for its pizza, which is said to be a unique delicacy."
Dante was already up and searching for his travel bag when he replied, "When are we going?"
It took both brothers all of their dignity and willpower not to laugh at each other. The younger twin failed about twelve seconds in. The older one managed to hide in the collar of his coat.
Dante rubbed his chin in thought, "Considering it is still summer break and both of them have been begging us to go outside for a good while now, I think we could walk out of the door right now and they would be happy."
Vergil considered that, and nodded his approval, "very much so."
"Cool. Then let's tell them we are going on a trip before mom finds something else for us to do."
The twins shuddered as the dreadful memory of forced bonding time lurked above them. Eva had tried her best to deploy a diabolical amount of guilt to make both brothers play Monopoly with each other. It had, predictably, ended in warfare. The matriarch of their family had never before been so disappointed. Their patriarch had given both of them a silent thumbs up, and then offered to teach them proper battlefield tactics later. The only one that really suffered that day had been an old vase that Sparda had just magically reassembled. A little bit of destruction was allegedly common for baby devils, so he wasn't too bothered to help clean it up. Eva hadn't seen it his way. The twins felt ice creep up their spines at the memory of her wrath.
They decided that Dante would ask their father, and Vergil their mother. A two pronged attack, and strategically played to give them an advantage. Dante knew that Eva was looking for ways to show Vergil that she loved him. There were few things she would deny him, and most of those would have been an outright no had Dante asked. Likewise, Sparda was attuned to his scheming firstborn and often underestimated what hell Dante could unleash. To his father, he was a simple creature with a heart of gold. Sparda never assumed he was planning something behind his back.
It had taken them a few hours to plead their cases before both of them got the okay to go on that trip. Eva was making sure the two would have everything they could need, which included all kinds of things from sunscreen to fresh underwear. Sparda had buried his nose into travel magazines and was looking for a suitable hotel to stash the twins in. They were completely clueless. Jackpot.
When the big day came tears were shed. Eva waved at them with pride and joy in her eyes. She had been over the moon when she saw her sons finally man up and stop fighting with each other. Getting them to tolerate each other's existence had been her goal for years now, and it was finally happening… just not for the reason she was thinking. Not that the twins were eager to correct that bit. A lie by omission was still a lie, but it wouldn't blow up if she never found out about it. Sparda had elected to stand behind his wife and kept smiling in soft bliss. Dante knew that he was overworked as it was, and he had a feeling that he was excited to have the house – and their mother – all to himself. He gave his father an impish grin, a wink, and the classic finger guns. The old devil returned those without a shred of embarrassment.
Dante waved at both of them until the port and his parents were nothing but a dot in endless blue. When he turned around to search for his brother, Vergil was already lounging in the shade and had read a third of his book. With that silent statement made, he leisurely made his way over to nap just close enough to piss Vergil off, but still too far away to be hit in the face.
After hours of smooth sailing, the brothers stepped off of the ferry and into what felt like a completely different world. Fortuna wasn't what they had expected. It was just as they had imagined it to be, but then there was more. The flat pictures in their heads filled out and formed a tangible shape to wrap their heads around. The view was beautiful.
But they had a mission.
Their first few hours were spent checking in. The hotel their father had picked for them was a five star monster that oozed luxury and timelessness. It was located rather conveniently in the heart of the city, nestled between the market and a theater, and across the street from the main cathedral. It was perfect for all the wrong reasons, and both twins shared a devious grin at their good fortune.
Once their things had been stashed away – and after a small fight over who got the bed with the view of the ocean – the pair headed down to the market to buy the necessary ingredients and reagents for their plan. Dante had a tendency to hear and remember a lot of things he should not even know existed. Contraband occult knowledge was useful if it was combined with the historical and scientific facts that were neatly stored in Vergil's head. Together the two went to buy an assortment of herbs, flowers, some mosses, and gems. Vergil would have never gotten his hands on the Mandragora root had it not been for his brother's little adventure with a witch two years ago.
On the other hand Dante kept scratching his head at the gemstones and phials of chemicals that Vergil kept in a special box in his inner coat pocket. Alchemy and arithmancy were his area of expertise as much as herbology and rune arrays were Dante's. He would never admit so out loud but deep down Vergil was glad that they had their own talents. He loathed being outclassed in the things he loved most, and having a brother do the work he was less inclined to do was an added bonus… if only Dante would just do as he was told for once. Alas, that was nothing a little bribe couldn't fix.
They had to pick a special perfect gem for themselves that would determine the coloring of their future scales. The ritual Vergil had read about, ascension – as the Order called it – required it as the focus point. Those gems would become their demonic hearts, so they had to be chosen carefully and with intent. In the magical world, minerals and gems had special properties that normal everyday humans were mostly unaware of. Thankfully they had been raised by an ancient devil knight.
Dante spotted a lovely blood red garnet that was cut into the shape of a star.
Vergil was struck by a chunk of naturally grown kyanite in a shade of blue that resembled a stormy sky.
In both cases it was love at first sight. They could feel it in their human hearts and souls that these were the right fit.
Crystals could be nice souvenirs. They were both aware that their parents monitored their credit cards. Little things usually went ignored, but these gems weren't cheap. Dante had the idea to claim they were little more than fancy dust collectors. Keepsakes, to remember their first solo trip later. Vergil took that base and crafted an elaborate story about newfound brotherhood to tell Eva later.
After the shopping, the two decided to split up. Dante wasn't interested in a library and Vergil would much rather eat a proper meal at the hotel's restaurant later. To the omnipotent outsider, that was a good thing. They were rivals and their truce only temporary; the two don't need to add food envy to the list of issues to squabble over. Dante could shrug off the nagging about his personal hygiene just fine. After all, Vergil always went overkill with his own morning routine, so his opinion was too biased to have any weight anyway. What he couldn't just let the Primadonna porcupine get away with was his primal hatred for the world's best food. Only evil people hate pizza, and Fortuna truly was the one place to be for a pizza-lover like him. He had five hours. That was plenty of time to burn through his allowance and enjoy this feast like his parents had never fed him as a child.
Four hours and a few minutes to spare, Dante felt the slice of pizza fall from his open mouth as he saw Vergil with a "smoking hot babe" only to realize that she was a prostitute and he looked rich enough to pay her yearly rent. With a groan he went to save his brother from what was likely teenage fatherhood. Dante doubted the people living here knew what contraceptives were and he was very sure that Vergil had never even heard of those.
"Hey, cutie, I need to borrow this loser for a moment. You can have him back after I remind him that dad won't be happy to hear his firstborn is spending his allowance like this!"
Vergil's eyes went wide and he looked almost offended.
"Bro, what's her name?" At this the girl tried to hide under her hood and brushed her red dress in embarrassment.
The slightly open mouth that had been waiting to spew eloquent insults snapped shut as its owner straightened his back. Vergil looked ready to rip his brother's head off. However, then he turned around to send an apologetic look towards the woman clinging to his sleeve.
"Forgive him. My brother has such bad luck with women he always assumes the worst of everyone."
"It is alright." she slipped a small piece of paper into his glove, "Perhaps another time?"
"When it is quieter. Yes." He leveled Dante with a seething glare.
She left soon after. Her red dress became nothing more than a smudge in a crowd of white, golden and brown. While the older twin stared after her forlornly, the younger impatiently tapped his foot.
"You do know she's a–"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence."
Dante shrugged, "don't come to me when she breaks your heart. Let's go. We've been wasting time."
"The grimoire will not run from us." Vergil mumbled as he straightened his cravat. He was visibly roughed up in a way that made Dante grin.
"Yeah but the market's only open until six and we still have to grab lots of the fresh stuff. The full moon is tonight, remember?"
With practiced indifference, Vergil backhanded his brother and led the way to said market. They indeed had quite a lot of ingredients to purchase if they wanted to make this work. The sooner he was a true devil, the sooner he could get to know her name, and continue this exquisite conversation about the philosophy of might makes right.
With Vergil holding a grudge for the entire evening, Dante was left to mix the actual concoction on his own. He had never before read a label, much less tried to follow a recipe, so he went ahead and dumped their ingredients into the bucket he had stolen from the cleaning crew earlier as he pleased. His heart would tell him how much he had to put where and when. Naturally, Vergil had accounted for that and bought only as much as they actually needed and not a drop more as a failsafe. Not that Dante was aware of that.
When all of their things were in the water it looked okay, but still lacked something that Dante couldn't put his finger on. He turned around to look for his still grumpy brother to ask if he had any ideas when a little bottle next to the door caught his eye. Small, ornate, and definitely not something they had bought earlier – the little temptress just sat there invitingly. Dante picked it up with no second thoughts and let the amber liquid inside drop into their concoction. Looking at it a bit more closely it almost reminded him of honey, but with tiny chunks of something black inside that, for a moment, made him think of Sparda's scales. He wrote it off as wishful thinking and shook his head. They'd be like their dad soon enough. He just had to trust the process, and according to his nose that thing was the spice they had needed.
It was done. Now he only needed to find Vergil and they could get started.
There were far too many illegally borrowed books in their hotel room. Or at least that was the first thing that came to their last remaining shared brain cell. The fumes from their home-made devil bath bomb made them see stars.
Dante felt his skin itch. There was something eating him from the inside out as his lungs burned and his heart thrashed against his ribs. Yet the cold soothed faster than the fire in his veins could burn. The water he was lazily playing in could have resurrected the dead. Probably.
Vergil felt a shudder squeeze his blood into solid little shards that stung with each breath he fought for in his hazy state. Everything he was suddenly solidified and hardened. It was as if his entire being had been cast in an iron armor that wound tighter and tighter every second. He would never admit to it, but he craved the unnatural fever that rolled off of Dante so much that he leaned in to rest his head against his brother's shoulder.
The last time they had been in a bathtub together they had been children. Now, high as a kite, the two felt their world shrink again. They weren't two teenagers trying to do the impossible out of love anymore. For just a moment they were just kids having a bloody bath bubble war in the fancy hotel room their parents had rented them. Two posh brats, laughing without a care in the world, trying to punch the snot out of the other with magic herbal foam.
Their problems would come later. In their haze they didn't notice how their bloody noses dripped all over their father's precious amulets. Their heirlooms now properly stained in deep scarlet, the twins lost themselves in their own vile concoction as they lost all sense of themselves in the light from the full moon above. They never saw that first impossible spark, the one that made Sparda flinch awake four countries away on the mainland.