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Vergil woke up in a place called Fortuna, one he had read about, but never been. He supposed the apparent Hell Gate was to blame. He blinked. Oddly, he couldn’t remember why he was there. One minute he’d been fighting Dante, the next he had been descending into hell to find more challengers. The fact that he was back in the human world should have been more concerning, but Vergil decided to simply roll with it.
After all, he still had Yamato. As how else would he have opened the gate? He remembered Fortuna from his research on Temen ni gru. The Order of the Sword was excited to see him, which he supposed made sense. He must be something of a demigod to them. He wasn’t sure exactly how they knew who he was. If they had discovered him through research, and summoned him specifically, or if they had simply taken in his appearance and assumed. With Yamato, Vergil certainly resembled his father.
Despite Vergil’s inherent distrust of the group, he decided to help them with the demon problem that had sprung up. It was merely convenient exercise.
After that, he was given free range of the entire island. His guide was a young woman named Mea-Culpa, although she insisted on being called ‘Mae.’ She also seemed unaware of who he was, if the ordinary politeness she displayed was anything to go by. The other members of the Order seemed to have a reverence to him. He hadn’t decided to burst their bubble and tell them he had no intentions of protecting the scum that was humanity.
“And here is the best view of the sea,” she said, and indeed it was a nice view. The castle shone brightly to the far right, while the wine dark sea sparkled in the setting sun. He appreciated the aesthetics for a moment before turning to the woman.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked.
She blinked. “I was told you were an important guest to Fortuna, but not more,” she said.
“And why were you chosen?” She seemed young to be given such an unknowingly important task.
“Well…” she wrung her hands slightly, “I wasn’t told for certain, but I suspect it’s because I know a lot of the history. You showed a special interest in the library and I thought we could return there tomorrow.”
Perhaps the Order had more information on him than he initially realized. Normally, this would bother him. But for whatever reason, Vergil didn’t have the urge to go and find out exactly what this Order knew. He was content to be shown around this little island.
As they were leaving, a gust of wind caught the woman’s hood. She let out a yelp as the hood flew towards the sea. Vergil, moving out of some gentlemanly urge his mother must have instilled, ran after it without another thought. Even with his enhanced speed, he was only barely able to catch it, reaching over the cliff to reach.
He returned the hood to the woman, noting her features. Vergil had never been all that concerned with the opposite sex. Not like his brother at least. Even when they were younger Dante was talking about girls and cooties much more than Vergil. When Vergil had asked their mother about it, she had said, ‘Dante likes girls so much he doesn’t know what to do about it. But he needs to be more respectful. If I’m not around, can you remind him? I’m trying to raise you both to be little gentlemen.’
Vergil, had of course agreed, although it seemed that neither his mother, nor his influence had done much for Dante. Granted, his only sign was how Dante spoke about Arkham’s daughter, and she hadn’t exactly been a lady. As much as she hated demonkind, she had the grit of a demon.
Vergil had grown away from his mother’s teachings in other ways.
But the reason Mae’s features reminded him of his previous lack of interest was that Vergil couldn’t help but notice she was rather pretty. Not an elegant beauty like his mother, but rather a simple sort of plain beauty. She had dark brown eyes, which matched her dark brown hair the wind was starting to catch. Her skin was fair, but he suspected it might tan easily without the hood, if judging from her hands. Vergil had always had somewhat of a distaste for the color red, if only because it was his twin’s favorite color, but on her it was…
Vergil, returned her hood to her, noting the new red in her cheeks as she quietly thanked him.
“Why is it you all wear hoods?” Vergil asked.
“It is to show we are a part of the Order,” she explained, “as well as modesty.”
“But I’ve seen a few of the knights who don’t wear hoods.”
“Once you carry a sword it is different,” was all Mae said.
Vergil wanted to ask if she could not wear the hood around him so he could see her face better, but resisted.
They returned to the castle where Vergil had a rather ornate room. Mae left him in front of his room with a small curtsy and fleeting smile before going on her way. Vergil found himself looking forward to the next day.
Servants brought him food, which he ate on his own, looking out at the view from his window. He could get used to this, even if just for a short amount of time.
After his meal, the leader of the Order, an old man named Sanctus, asked to speak with him again. At the man’s side was a beautiful woman without a hood. Her hair was also a dark brown, perhaps the most common hair color on the island, with fair skin. Her eyes were an electric shade of green. Her dress was white and tailored closer to her curves. Vergil wondered if this woman carried a sword, and that was why she seemed unconcerned with the Order’s idea of ‘modesty’.
“How have you enjoyed your time here,” Sanctus asked, “Are you comfortable?”
“Surprisingly so,” Vergil replied.
“We hoped you were enjoying your stay,” Sanctus added and then gestured to the woman. “This is Babylon, she is one of the knights that was eager to meet you, and I thought you might want to ah… get to know her as well.”
The woman curtsied, and Vergil noted that her scent was rather sweet. He wondered if it was a perfume of some sort. He didn’t like it, to his heightened senses, it was unnaturally sweet. He nodded to her. Perhaps her soft looking body hid some talent with the sword that Sanctus wanted to show off. So far none of the so-called knights had given Vergil any of a challenge, and so he was eager to find one. It was such a pain for his brother to be the only one who truly pushed his limits.
Somewhere, far in the back of his psych, was a reminder that he had met another who beat him. A fearsome demon. A demon named—
“I had heard of your great skill with the sword,” the woman said, “I was curious to see it myself,” Her voice lowered slightly as she added, “as well as help you relax.”
Vergil thought about it.
“Of course, if you are tired, we could push this to another day,” Sanctus said.
Vergil was never too tired to fight. If he had been, he would be dead by now. He shook his head. “Is there a training ground?”
“Training ground?” Sanctus asked, “Is the room not big enough?”
Vergil supposed the room was rather large. “If you do not mind parts of it possibly being destroyed, it is acceptable.”
At that, Sanctus laughed as though the two shared a joke. “I think we can manage some of that. Babylon, would you agree?”
“Of course, High Priest,” she said, and followed Vergil into the room. Vergil paced the room, noting the moon now lit it along with the candles. The door shut and the woman’s eyes followed his form with intensity.
“Shall we begin?” Vergil asked, itching to draw his sword. She smiled and, Vergil noted that he still couldn’t see a sword anywhere on her.
“I love a man who can take charge,” she said, in that same low voice. She reached into her clothes and… began to unbutton them. Perhaps he had been right and her outfit was too cumbersome to truly fight in. Still, it made no sense to him to wear clothes one couldn’t fight in. At his confused look, she asked, “Did you want to do this part?”
He shook his head, and continued to watch, seeing no sword or any weapons. Perhaps she summoned her weapon, or could manifest a sort of energy sword. Vergil had seen such things in demons, although not in humans. Finally, she let the dress drop to the ground, revealing an oddly hairless body.
His understanding of women was that they grew hair in the same places men did, save the face. Was she not an adult? Yet her breasts were large and her hips were full. Perhaps she shaved down there as he shaved his face?
While this confused Vergil, he still did not realize what was going on. His mind went to the Ancient Greeks, who would fight naked. Perhaps she wanted to wrestle? Unfortunately for her, Vergil had not lowered himself to wrestling, especially in the buff, since he was around five years old, and Dante had pulled him into a large mud pit the younger half demon had created.
“Where’s your sword?” he asked bluntly. He had no time for lesser forms of combat.
“Sword?” she asked, and looked down. “I don’t have one. Why? Do you… prefer that? You could pretend I have one! I don’t mind.”
“What use is a pretend sword?” Vergil asked, “How would you expect me to use mine?”
“I can think of lots of ways you could use yours,” she all but purred, crossing the room. He noticed she wore heels still. How impractical.
When she was within arms distance, Vergil put a hand on the hilt of Yamato. “Halt. I have no intention of letting anyone touch this sword except to taste its blade. And if you are unarmed you will die. You’re merely human after all. And humans are especially weak.”
At that her eyes widened. “You… you mean your actual sword. Not…” the woman blinked and furrowed her brows. “Are you interested in anything else?” she ran her hands down her well endowed body. Vergil’s eyes never left hers.
“No.”
She swallowed and seemed to understand. She redressed quickly, and left the room without another word. Vergil let out a breath of relief. That was strange, he’d have to tell Sanctus he wasn’t interested in wrestling of any sort. Perhaps to fight against another bladed weapon, such as a spear or an ax could entice him, but he had thought an order with a name like theirs would have better sword fighters.
The next day, Sanctus shared breakfast with Vergil. “I am sorry for the… misunderstanding last night,” Sanctus said.
“I realized I hadn’t made myself clear,” Vergil said, “I am not interested in the lesser forms of combat. Grappling, or whatever it was that woman was an expert in, is not something I will sully myself with.”
Sanctus seemed slightly confused, but nodded all the same and said, “yes, I will keep that in mind.” Before he could finish his thought, the door opened, and Mae entered the room. She stopped when she saw Sanctus.
Vergil found himself inspecting her, though he didn’t know why he had such an interest in this woman. She had not done anything especially special except be well versed in history and poetry.
Even now her appearance was the same as yesterday, plain red dress, with a skirt that went down to her ankles and left everything to the imagination, and a white hood that obscured most of her face. There was nothing special about her at all.
His imagination briefly flashed with what she might look like without the layers. Within the moment, he banished such images. Why would he care what she looked naked? When had feminine beauty ever intrigued him?
“Ah, Mea-Culpa,” Sanctus said, “perfect timing. I’m sure Lord Vergil would like to get moving after being disappointed by our hosting.”
“Oh, of course!” she said and smiled. “I have a full itinerary for today!”
Vergil pushed himself up from the table and decided to follow her instead of insisting upon doing something himself.
Once they were out of the building she said, “I was originally planning on the library,” she said, “But I figured we could do that after seeing more sights!”
Vergil nodded.
And see the sights they did. First she brought him to a coffee shop where he had to admit, the coffee was quite good. He didn’t enjoy sweet things anymore, and the dark liquid was satisfyingly bitter. His opinion that sweet things were childish notwithstanding, the strawberry pastry that Mae had insisted on sharing did suit the drink quite well.
Absent-mindedly he thought about his brother. He wondered if he still had his sweet tooth. He wondered how Dante was doing and…
Without noticing it, thoughts of his brother withered away. Like night chasing the last vestiges of twilight.
After the cafe, they visited a black smith’s shop where the order’s swords were created. He understood why thought to bring him there, but the human engineering didn’t interest him. These swords could hurt weaker demons, but they would fall apart if faced with something like him.
Mae, ever observant, caught on to his lack of interest and suggested the library. The library was grand and full of books on history, philosophy, theology, poetry, and more. A treasure trove of the humanities.
Of course, such things served no real purpose to someone like him, even Vergil could admit that it was pleasurable.
They came to the library for the next days, Mae admitting she was pleased he enjoyed such a place, as it was where she preferred to spend her time. Vergil found her to not just be a flatterer of literature but a great reader. Writer as well.
“How did you like that one?” she asked as he set down a more recent look into moral philosophy on the nature of evil.
“Quite thought provoking,” he said, “although I think I disagree on its conclusion.”
”You do?” she asked.
He nodded. “If God is defined as the source of all creation, and all things good come from him, did he not create evil as well?”
”Only insofar as the absence of light creates a shadow,” Mae replied.
“Ah, so you have read this.”
She smiled slightly. “In a matter of speaking.”
Vergil narrowed his eyes and checked the author. “You wrote it,” he said, “Have you written other books?”
”Yes,” she said, and then blushed, “but not… I do not think you would enjoy them. I fear they are quite… well they are novels.”
”Novels?” he asked intrigued, “Of what nature?”
”Romantic…”
Vergil did not normally read such things, but he did enjoy the romantic period of poetry. Perhaps a novel written in that style would be equally suitable.
”Is there a copy here?”
Mae blushed and shook her head. “I would not dream of such a thing being here! They are simple entertainment, not meant for learning.”
”Then do you have a copy I could borrow?”
The blush had yet to fade, clashing with her red dress. How red suited her complexion. He had thought it a garish color before, but unlike his brother where it made him appear wan, it seemed to accentuate the warmth in Mae’s skin. He could almost see the sweet blood rushing through her veins. So vivacious.
Vergil averted his eyes once he realized he had been starting. That had been happening more often. Him, finding himself transfixed by the lady in red’s beauty.
“I could. I’ll bring it tomorrow.”
”Thank you.” The idea of seeing her tomorrow was most agreeable, and yet, he did not want to part yet. He wished they did not have to part.
As if reading his mind, she asked, “You wouldn’t enjoy singing, would you?”
Vergil nodded, and she pulled him along through the sunset golden streets. Eventually they came to a bar. Vergil was surprised that a religious city had a bar, but followed Mae as she entered. Inside there was a stage to one side with a rather drunk man singing his heart out to Bad Company.
The two grabbed a booth and Vergil allowed her to buy drinks for both of them. Human alcohol couldn’t do much to him, but he still accepted the drink, whatever it was. He preferred wine, but not enough to say anything. Besides, he had had wine with each dinner, and menagerie was the spice of life.
“I take it you want me to go and perform?” he asked.
“Do you not want to?” she asked, “I’ll go and sing with you. I love Karaoke, but none of my friends like going. They say foreign music is the work of evil…”
To a stranger, Vergil contemplating Karaoke would seem out of character, but Vergil saw no shame in displaying his skill. He may not enjoy being at the center of attention the same way his brother did, but their mother had insisted they learn music. Besides, the room seemed to be feeling the mood enough to not remember. With his hood, Vergil fit right into the crowd.
Mae was moving through her cocktail, whatever it was, and didn’t wait for his answer to put her song. “Here’s the catalogue,” she said, bringing a binder with her, “it’s all sort of old, but…”
Vergil glanced through the selection and found one that he remembered fondly. He told the man in charge of the karaoke himself, and sat down next to Mae. She seemed to be buzzing with excitement.
When it was her turn, she sang a Cure song, Boy’s Don’t Cry. She had a fair voice, but the real enjoyment was seeing her dance. When she was done, the others clapped and Vergil noted she must have been a regular.
“Impressive,” he said, unsure why exactly he was giving such a lively, but amateur, performance praise.
“Liars go to hell,” she said, smiling and downing the rest of her drink. That was why, he realized, taking a long swig to cover his embarrassment. He just found her rosy cheeks and excitement fascinating. And to spark such a positive reaction in her fanned his pride.
“So do drunks,” Vergil pointed out, smiling so she knew he was only teasing.
She blushed and muttered something about seeking absolution the next day.
“And I was impressed. Far too often, humans are too concerned about what others think of them. Self consciousness does not suit many.”
He took another sip and noted it tasted familiar. It burned his throat like alcohol was supposed to. Mae sat across from him, staring at him with affectionate eyes. “I’m still surprised you would go as far as sing yourself.”
“I was trained in the classical arts. Is it strange I enjoy them?”
“When you put it like that…”
Soon enough it was his turn and he stood up. The song, ‘Out of Touch’ by Hall and Oats began to play, and Vergil completed the song to perfection. The song he usually performed wasn’t on the listing, but Hall and Oats were always a classic. Mother had often sung such selections to him and Dante.
It seemed his performance had impressed the room, as it should, as everyone lept to their feet in applause. He stared out for a moment and then set the mic back and returned to the table where Mae stood.
“You’re amazing,” she said, the look of awe being more satisfying than he thought possible. After a moment of contemplation, she asked, “You wanna see something cool?”
Vergil finished his drink and nodded.
Soon he was being pulled along through the forest in the mountains. Mae’s hand was soft, and Vergil found himself liking the feel of it. He hadn’t held a woman’s hand since his mother’s. He thought it was different now that he was a man. He enjoyed it in a different way. He found Mae’s little smiles and tentative glance backs intriguing.
As opposed to simple comfort, her touch inspired thoughts and feelings of passion. There was a level of uncertainty he would normally avoid, and yet when in the context of her was more intoxicating than spirits.
The grand finale of the excursion was a waterfall. “Oh, I should have asked, do you know how to swim?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Excellent!” she said and started stripping. There was no seduction in her movement, but Vergil found himself mesmerized all the same. She left on a slip dress, but between the bright moonlight and his own enhanced vision, he could see her body in exquisite detail. If she cared, she didn’t show it. Vergil found himself joining her. She jumped in with a splash, making the slip go translucent.
Perhaps rashly, or perhaps because he was curious about her reaction, he left nothing on. When he glanced to the pool he found her eyes on him. On all of him. It felt nice. He wanted her attention on him. He wanted…
Vergil waded in, following Mae around the pool in a lighthearted pursuit. He could catch her easily if he wanted to, but the chase was thrilling in its own way.
As he circled in, Mae let out a gasp and Vergil turned to see a few weak demons lurking. He frowned. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but dammit if he were going to let some demons ruin it. How dare they let their putrid gaze fall on his woman.
Vergil did not think about the implications of thinking Mae was his woman. Just that he wanted her, and he tended to get the things he wanted.
He flash jumped out of the water, grabbing his sword, and ending the demons in a blink. Mae screamed again, and Vergil turned to see something in the water. Mae scrambled away out of the water, and Vergil dove back in to slay it.
It proved difficult and in a moment of frustration he took his demonic form to end it quickly. He succeeded and left the pool unfortunately covered in blood.
Mae stared at him for a second as he approached. The look in her eye was of complete awe and something else, something that had his blood lust finding a new avenue. Still, she took a step back, and Vergil realized he was still in his demonic form. He let it fall and her hesitant retreat stopped. Instinct pushed him forward. Not demonic, no, he knew this was a pure human animal.
The devil in him found the creature in front of him pathetic and soft. The human in him wanted to find out how soft she truly was. How sweet her flesh would feel embraced with his own. In a conscious decision, he fell into his human weakness.
He swept her into his arms, noting how her body felt against his own. The slip was an annoying veil. Still, he leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss.
The instant his mouth touched hers, she wrapped her hands into his hair. That was nice. Following his animal urges, he deepened the kiss, pleased when Mae met him in passion. A noise escaped him he didn’t know he could make, and Mae moaned in response. He laid her down onto the soft grasses away from the dead demons and let his hands explore her legs.
With a soft blush on her cheeks, Mae lifted up the hem of her slip. Vergil watched with rapt attention. She bit her lip and Vergil found his lips on her body. And what a nice body it was. Beautiful.
“You too,” she breathed out. He looked up, meeting her eyes. He’d spoken aloud without meaning to. “You’re so beautiful.”
The affection was what caught him off guard. He kissed her on the lips again.
For once Vergil did not think too much about what he was doing, he merely did. As did Mae. She led him to touch her in ways that seemed to pleasure her, before she urged him on to truly make love to her. To have her.
Vergil had never wanted something more.
Have her, he did.
…
They woke a few hours later, Vergil not remembering falling asleep. Mae blushed deeply, and the two redressed without many words. Vergil wasn’t quite sure what to say, and attempted to slick his hair back. Due to the water having washed the product out, it was messy and unstable.
When Mae smiled at his attempts, he found himself not minding.
He offered his arm in an imitation of what he’d seen his father do for his mother. This seemed to be the correct course of action, as Mae offered a soft and affectionate thanks.
“The tenet house I stay at will notice if I come back so late,” she said.
They would notice if she wasn’t there in the morning, but Vergil didn’t want to leave her so soon. No, he wanted a repeat of their activities. “They told me I could come and go as I pleased,” Vergil told her. “Come with me.”
She nodded and he transformed. Unlike last night where something had pushed her back, now she threw her hands around his neck, for that was all she could reach up. He swept her up in his arms, satisfied with how she clung to him tightly.
Vergil reflected on how there was no fear in her despite his demonic form. Perhaps a Fortunan woman would be less scared of such things. Her skin was soft and pale, he could still remember how it tasted.
Vergil had always thought human’s tendency to cling to each other was just another sign of their weakness, but he had forgotten that he was half human. That this human side seemed to crave cloesness, both emotionally and physically.
He’d known from reputation that sex felt good, and it had, but what he hadn’t expected was the intimacy. He’d only know Mae for a week, and yet the idea of leaving her seemed unthinkable.
What he was feeling couldn’t possibly be love.
Love was reserved for Mother and Father… and potentially Dante. Because he had never been particularly interested in romance, he hadn’t paid attention to it. Perhaps this was the sort of love Father had felt for Mother. It certainly felt more serious, more intense than anything Dante had felt for Arkham’s daughter.
He landed on the balcony of his room, setting Mae down. She did not move away from him, and slid her hand down from his shoulder to his hand. He didn’t hold her hand back, extra careful in his devil form.
She tugged him forward, Vergil transformed back into a man, eager to feel her skin on his human skin. His demon form was stronger, faster, in most ways, better. But its surface was made for battle, not this. Not her.
Vergil sat on his bed, surprised when Mae sat down on one of his thighs. Her forwardness surprised him, but he welcomed it. They were kissing again, her uncalloused and warm hands mussing his hair. He loved it.
Their clothes were shed for a second time.
The morning came in a haze. He wasn’t sure if he had really fallen asleep, or just drifted in and out of a pleasant half sleep.
“Good morning,“ he greeted, and not able to help himself added, “a delightful start of the day, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Good morning,” she said quietly. Her stomach rumbled and he smiled. He would get her food, after all, she didn’t heal as quickly as he did. It was somewhat regretfully that he regarded the bruises on her hips in the shape of his hands, and the few dark spots on her chest and neck. It both fascinated and terrified him that he had left any marks in his eagerness. But Mae did not seem alarmed; she couldn’t stop smiling. Vergil couldn’t either.
“Stay,” he murmured, “They always wish to bring me breakfast in my room. I will go request some.”
“Okay,” she said, and settled back into the blankets. “It’s nice to sleep in…”
Remembering how much she had sweated in exertion, he poured a glass of water and set it on the bedside table.
Vergil had intended to be subtle, as he imagined a place like Fortuna would have rules about men and women. He wouldn’t want Mae’s reputation to be tarnished because of his lack of self control. His intentions were dashed as one of the attendents stared at him. The food came quickly, and Vergil returned to find Mae sleeping like an angel, her dark hair spread out across the pillows. He didn’t want to wake her, but she did need to eat… and he also wanted to do it again. If she was up to it. He didn’t know how to ask, but he figured he’d try to think of something while she ate.
The toast, fruit, eggs, and bacon were all fine fair, and once the smell entered her nose, she woke up, hurrying to her feet, and then blushing. He imagined it was because she was naked, but he would rather she stay that way. Perhaps if she remained with the blankets to cover some of her modesty, she would stay thus.
“Do you wish to eat in bed?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Either way there’s going to be a mess…”
A mess? He then glanced and saw the evidence of their love making on her thighs. He felt himself getting hard again.
“The sheets are easier to clean,” he said.
The days passed in a strange pink hued rush. Instead of remembering ideas around responsibility and how one ought to treat a woman, Vergil came to the conclusion that he did not want to leave Mae, nor for her to leave him. It wasn’t just the overwhelming sensation of sex, but rather how gently she treated him. Like he was something precious. Like he was something worth protecting. It was how she would challenge him on ideas he’d held on a particular poem, how she knew some much of art and history, far more than him in certain aspects.
No, Vergil did not want to part from her and so he informed her one evening, “I will marry you.”
“Marry me?” she asked, eyes shining.
He nodded once, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Concerned for this fragile creature, he cupped her face, wondering if his statement had hurt her in some way.
She smiled and wiped her face. “No, I’m just--I’m so happy!”
“It will be arranged in the morning,” Vergil told her. There were priests enough on the island, and he was sure they would indulge him in this. When he left, he would take her with him. Or perhaps he could stay forever… “now, come, rest. I think you are tired.”
Mae clutched him tightly, and the two lovers drifted into dreamland, unaware that their love had already borne fruit, and that Vergil’s time there had come to a close.
In the night, compelled by a dark force Vergil recognized as Mundus, he was transformed back into the form he had held since being defeated years ago. Nelo Angelo.
And in that form he burst from the balcony to the sea, intent upon a place he knew was Mallet Island. Where Mundus would rise once more and conquer humanity. Where his brother would possibly meet his death.
There were fleeting regrets about the woman he had shared those halcyon days with, but once her cries grew faint, so too did such feelings. His heart hardened even as his humanity cried out in equal agony.
Such feelings were weakness.
The salty water sliding down his face was merely from the sea and held no connection to the rending of his heart. What else could it be?
After all, devils never cry.