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Summary
"Tyr put his right hand into the beast's jaw knowing full well he would never get it back. He didn't do it out of weakness, Nero. And he certainly didn't do it because he was defeated."
Unpacking rain-dampened trunks in the cold foyer of the manor, Nero expects heavy lifting and a miserable reminder of his father. What he finds instead is a quiet truth from a woman who sees straight through the Sparda bloodline, and the ancient silver thread that binds it.
Series
- Part 2 of Dead Tongues and Dark Rooms
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Bookmark Notes:
"Except Tyr," you said. "Tyr put his right hand into the beast's jaw, knowing full well he would never get it back. He didn't do it out of weakness, Nero. And he didn't do it because he was defeated. He sacrificed his arm so the rest of the world could go on living without being consumed by the monster."
Nero’s jaw worked silently. He looked down at the silver-threaded warrior, the silence between you so full you could hear the rain running down the stone outside.
He didn't break down, and he didn't lower his head. That wasn't who he was. But the defensive guard he kept wrapped around his shoulders softened just enough for the truth to sink in.
"Vergil took your arm because he was terrified of being helpless," you added quietly, stepping closer to help him handle the heavy weave. "He stripped his own bloodline because he mistook power for survival. But you bore the loss, you stood between those two idiot brothers when nobody else could, and you kept them from tearing the world in half. He acted out of weakness, Nero. You gave your strength to save everyone. That makes you the justice of this family."
Nero let out a rough, breathless laugh that sounded suspiciously like a clearing of his throat. He looked away toward the far stone wall, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand.
"You're a weird lady, you know that?" he muttered, though there was no real bite to it. He turned back to the table, grabbing the top iron ring of the wall hanging with a sudden, pragmatic energy to cover the crack in his armor. "Where are we mounting this thing? Over the fireplace?"