Chapter Text
2019/2020
The Qliphoth rose in Redgrave, a demonic tree that threatened to consume the world.
The sons of Sparda — Dante and Vergil — crossed blades once again. Nero, Vergil's son, awakened his true heritage.
In the end, the brothers descended into the Underworld, to sever the roots of the Qliphoth from within hell.
The twins of Sparda and Eva came back from hell that same year. Vergil after many tribulations truly accepted his humanity and with it fatherhood towards Nero, and a relationship with Mary with whom he had a past and Nicoletta which was enamored with the other two since she First laid eyes on them. Dante for his part stopped resisting Trish's advances and was soon tangled with the she-devil.
That same year, Mary and Nico fell pregnant.
2021/2022
The echoes of Mundus, Prince of Darkness, lingered still. Vergil descended once more into the depths of Hell.
For one year, he waged war in silence. For one year, he cut down the remnants of the demon king's dominion alongside his demons, Griffon, Pandora, Shadow and Nightmare and Mundus and his hordes fell.
The prince of Darkness was destroyed at the hands of the Darkslayer.
2024/2032
Vergil, Mary, and Nico built more than a household — they built a sanctuary, the Sparda mansion was rebuilt and expanded, Dante, Trish, Nero, Kyrie and kids all moved in and lived all in chaotic domestic bliss.
The Sparda Fairchild Foundation established in the months after the Qliphoth was severed thrived, schools and orphanages raised, children given a place safe from the shadows. Vergil's fortune kept growing exponentially, through investing the fortune left behind by Sparda in ancient chambers in Fortuna, he even became the first trillionaire in the world, not that many knew of it, and said fortune growed with each passing day.
But shadows linger still.
In secret, cultists of Mundus plotted, seeking fragments of their shattered master, whispering promises of resurrection.
The cult struck in 2032, seeking to claim the young heirs of Sparda. They failed, not only the whole family fell upon them but Orion and Beatrice were capable of defending themselves.
But the lesson was clear: the blood of Sparda would forever draw the gaze of Hell.
2035
Sixteen years had passed since Redgrave. Nevermore Academy — a haven for the strange, the cursed, the gifted. Was suddenly holding two descendants of Sparda.
New Blood — Week 1
Principal Weems watched through the window of her office with morbid fascination as the reason for her recent dread arrived. A military vehicle followed by a model of Rolls Royce absolutely unknown to her, and behind the two a clearly military heavy truck. They all parked into the lot of the school, from the Rolls Royce a butler descended and opened the back door, while at the same time from the military vehicle 25 fully armed personnel, between men and women got out and started creating a defensive perimeter, they all had impossibly advanced weapons. From the backseat from the Rolls Royce three figures appeared, one man and two women.
One woman was framed by a blood-red dress that hugged her silhouette. The dress was high-necked at the front, demurely covering her collarbones, yet plunged open from just below the neckline down to mid-back, revealing the graceful lines of her shoulder blades. The hem fell just above her knees, accentuated by a pair of matching blood-red stiletto heels that added a sharp edge to her petite frame. Her skin was sun-kissed with warm golden undertones, dusted with freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her hazel-brown eyes, bright and lively behind her round, vintage-style glasses, glimmered with curiosity and wit. Her chestnut-brown hair, wavy and untamed, was pulled back loosely into a ponytail, leaving a few rebellious strands to frame her heart-shaped face.
A black-diamond bracelet encircled her wrist. Sleek, modern, and understated yet luxuriously dark. She carried a small crossbody bag in the same deep red leather as her heels and dress, slung effortlessly over one shoulder, her arms carrying a number of tattoos, by a guess, Weems would put her at 170 cm of height and probably being Nicoletta, or how she wanted to be addressed through the phone calls, Nico.
The second woman was a striking contrast, exuding an effortless sophistication. Her black dress was cut with a plunging V-neckline that began at the tops of her shoulders, its lines sharp and clean, drawing attention to her statuesque frame. A high slit ran up the right side to mid-thigh, showing flashes of her long, toned leg as she moved. A pair of sleek black stilettos completed the ensemble, the polished leather catching the light with every step. The skin was porcelain-fair with a faint olive undertone, smooth and luminous against the dark fabric. Her heterochromatic eyes, red and blue, intense and alluring beneath dark lashes, contrasted dramatically with her inky-black hair that Weems could only describe as a sophisticated short-haired mess framed her face beautifully.
A necklace of red diamonds rested against her collarbone, the gems glinting like drops of blood against the deep neckline, elegant, dangerous, and impossibly expensive, she carried a pistol holstered in her thigh, and was a few centimeters taller than the other woman, probably 175 to 180 cm tall, Mary she supposed, the Demon Huntress.
The two women walked towards the stairs to her office holding hands. And stopped at the door, looking backwards.
The man following, poised with his usual calm, impeccable composure. He wore a full three-piece suit: a vivid deep-navy jacket and matching vest, the tailoring razor-sharp, paired with a crisp black shirt and a pale blue tie the exact shade of his piercing eyes. His black leather dress shoes shone like glass, polished to a mirror finish. His skin was pale with cool undertones, almost porcelain in the daylight, complementing his sharp cheekbones and the proud, angular lines of his face. His icy cerulean-blue eyes, calm yet commanding. His silver-white hair, swept back neatly, a few bangs framed his brow, caught a subtle glint of light, as refined and composed as the rest of him.
On his wrist gleamed a vintage, old-money luxury watch, its platinum case thin and understated, the leather band black and immaculate. He was imposing, probably taller than herself and carried an alluring katana in his left hand, that would be Vergil.
From the armored vehicle two more got out, a boy and a girl, the supposed children of the trio currently waiting by the door. Orion, the boy was the man's spitting image if a bit shorter than him, with violet eyes and sporting some facial lines identical to the heterochromatic woman, hair styled just the same. Using a wine coloured dress shirt, black dress pants, vest and shoes, a watch much like his older version, a katana by his left hand and a Handgun in a underarm holster on his left arm.
Beatrice, the girl was the spitting image of the shorter woman, but there were clear traces of the man in her. Black hair with silver-white streaks and red highlights, freckled on her face. A band t-shirt under a leather jacket, jeans and combat boots.
They all entered and Weems suddenly felt small, really, really small and really really hot. Vergil was indeed bigger than her, probably 200 cm tall, the boy was at least 185 cm while the girl was at 175 cm.
Two panther like monsters surged from Vergil himself like liquid metal polling at his feet and taking solid form, horned things, with tails with spiked maces as the tips, they moved and suddenly became liquid again and turned into chairs, the women took the present chairs of her office, the two younger ones took the monsters turned chairs and the man simply motioned to sit and some sort of tree roots sprout from the ground to make a throne for him. The arrangement was like a royal procession, Front and center the king, to his left the shorter woman, his right the taller woman, his queens and behind them the heirs. The young man behind the shorter woman and the girl behind the taller one.
–Good morning, principal Weems. –Came Vergil voice, calm, collected, commanding, crossing his legs and leaning his katana against the supernatural throne.
′Good God. Did he just grow furniture from the floor? Are those actual demons casually serving as chairs? And why is my body responding to this display of impossible power like I'm a teenager with a crush? Look at those legs poking out the dress, such alluring heterochromatic eyes, and those freckles and chaotic smile…′ –Weems thought, her pulse racing as she tried to process what had just occurred in her office.
She could feel heat creeping up her neck as she took in Vergil's commanding presence, the way he sat on his conjured throne like he owned not just the room but reality itself. The casual display of supernatural authority was doing things to her professional composure that were entirely inappropriate for a school administrator.
′Focus, Larissa. You've dealt with difficult parents before. Granted, none of them arrived with military escorts and literal demons, but the principle remains the same. Project authority. Maintain control. Do not think about how his voice sounds or how alluring the women are.′
–Good morning, Mr. And Mmes. Sparda. Welcome to Nevermore Academy. I trust your journey was comfortable? –She managed, proud that her voice only wavered slightly.
′Comfortable. Right. Because arriving with an armed escort and demonic familiars is perfectly normal.′
–Quite. Now, to business. We should clarify certain administrative matters before our children begin their education here. –Vergil replied with that maddening calm.
–Administrative matters? –Weems repeated, grateful to be on familiar ground.
–Our companies currently hold a fifty-eight percent stake in Nevermore Academy. We thought it prudent to ensure our children's educational environment meets our standards. –Mary said matter-of-factly, consulting what appeared to be a very expensive tablet.
–I'm sorry, fifty-eight percent of what? –Weems blinked.
–The school's ownership. We've been quietly acquiring shares through various subsidiaries. Nothing personal sugar, just good business sense. –Nico clarified cheerfully.
′They own the majority of my school. They own the majority of MY SCHOOL. Oh, they own me… Not that I'm against, because you three could literally bend me over this table and… FOCUS LARISSA, YOU'RE BEING WORSE THAN WITH MORTICIA AS A ROOMMATE!′
–What we need to know is what requirements must be met for our children to have unrestricted access to all facilities and the ability to maintain their personal effects. –Vergil continued smoothly gesturing toward the weapons both teenagers carried with casual ease.
–Personal effects? –Weems repeated weakly.
–Their weapons, standard family equipment. Non-negotiable. –Mary translated with a slight smile.
–I… There are policies about weapons on campus… –Larissa's brain was slowly short-circuiting.
–Which can be modified. What do you need from us to ensure things proceed according to our preferences? We require a guarantee of our children's safety. Inside the academy, outside it, and of everyone here. And them keeping their weapons, is said guarantee. –Vergil interrupted with gentle finality.
The casual way he said 'everyone here' while sitting on a throne made of supernatural plant matter sent a shiver down Weems' spine.
–Additionally, I noticed this place could use some renovations. How much funding would be required for comprehensive upgrades? –Nico added, pulling out what looked like a checkbook bound in leather that probably cost more than Weems' monthly salary.
Weems stared at the checkbook, then at the three impossibly attractive, supernaturally powerful parents who apparently owned her school and were casually offering to fund renovations while their demon-sword-Revolver-carrying children sat on furniture made of literal monsters.
–I… Renovations are expensive. The infrastructure alone would require… I mean, if we're talking about comprehensive upgrades to bring everything up to modern standards… –She said weakly.
She tried to think of a number so absurd they'd reconsider their casual approach to throwing money around.
–Half a billion dollars. But of course, that's completely unrealistic. –She said, attempting a laugh.
–That's it? –All three parents looked genuinely surprised.
–Sugar, I was expecting at least twice that amount. Should I make it an even billion to cover contingencies? –Nico was already writing in the checkbook.
–I… What? –Weems felt the blood drain from her face.
–Half a billion seems insufficient for the kind of comprehensive renovation a school of this caliber deserves. Make it two billion, cara mia. I'd rather over-fund than leave projects incomplete. We'll be sending comprehensive plans for security measures, and our records contractors numbers. –Vergil noted thoughtfully.
–Two billion it is. And if you need more you know, just call. –Nico agreed, her pen moving across the check with practiced ease.
They're writing a check for two billion dollars. In my office. While sitting on demon furniture. Why is this hot? Why am I hot?
–Is there anything else the academy requires? –Mary asked politely, as if they hadn't just casually offered to fund the most expensive school renovation in history.
Weems opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again like a fish gasping for air.
–I think I need to sit down –Weems whispered, brain not braining right.
–You are sitting down. –Beatrice pointed out helpfully.
–Then I need to lie down. Or drink. Possibly both. –Said Weems, using her hand to fan herself.
–Understandable. The transition to working with our family can be quite overwhelming to some. We'll be sending a box of some of our best wines and bourbons. –Vergil said with what might have been sympathy.
As the family began to rise from their supernatural seating arrangements, who dissolved the monsters back to Vergil and the roots to the ground, Nico paused and snapped her fingers as if remembering something important.
–Oh, I almost forgot. V, Mary and I are thoroughly committed to one another, enthusiastically committed, but seeing as you've been horny from the minute we seated since we can all smell it in you, you seriously need a good railing, something fierce sugar. So we're making an exception. –She said cheerfully, pulling out an elegant business card from her jacket pocket. –Call us anytime you need some good relief or if you're just horny. –She placed the card on Weems' desk with a casual flick of her wrist.
The office fell into stunned silence. Weems stared at the card like it might explode, her face cycling through several shades of red.
–I… You… What… –She stammered, her professional composure finally shattering completely.
–Are you three SERIOUS?! –Orion groaned, covering his face with his hands.
–Oh my gods, you're all unhinged. –Beatrice muttered, though she was clearly fighting back laughter.
–Mother, Father, Mama, you cannot proposition the school administrator. –Orion said with strained patience.
–We just did. –Mary replied with obvious amusement.
–Successfully, I'd say, judging by her reaction. –Vergil added with dry satisfaction.
Weems shot to her feet so quickly her chair spun backward, immediately moving to her window to watch their departure. Sure enough, all three parents were looking back at her with matching smirks of supreme satisfaction.
Vergil gave her a small, elegant wave.
Mary blew her a kiss.
Nico winked and made a gesture, a finger getting inside a hole, that was definitely not appropriate for a school setting.
–This cannot be my life. This cannot actually be happening to me. –Weems whispered to herself, clutching the windowsill.
Behind her, she could hear the teenagers' mortified voices growing fainter as they left her office to grab something in their car.
–I can't believe they just hit on the principal. –Orion was saying.
–With a business card. A business card! Who does that? –Beatrice added with obvious glee.
–Your parents, apparently. –Came Orion's resigned reply.
–They're your parents as well, you dense motherfucker. –Said Beatrice, starting to laugh out loud at her brother's horrified face.
–Not anymore. They're disowned now. –Said Orion, dry as a desert.
Weems looked down at the card still sitting on her desk. Expensive cardstock, embossed lettering, and what appeared to be genuine gold leaf edging. Even their proposition came with a luxury presentation.
She picked it up with trembling fingers. On one side was simply a phone number. On the other, in elegant script:
"For when you're ready to stop being professional. - V, M, & N"
–I need a drink. I need several drinks. I need to call my therapist. I need to update my resume because there's no way this job ends well for me. –She announced to her empty office.
She looked at the card again, then at the two-billion-dollar check Nico had left behind, then back at the card.
–But first,I need to process the fact that the parents who apparently own the school also just propositioned me while their children watched in horror. –She said to herself, tucking the card into her desk drawer.
From outside her window came the sound of the military convoy departing, leaving behind only the faint scent of expensive cologne and the lingering sense that her life had just taken a turn into complete supernatural chaos.
Then the kids came back with baggages, surprising her slightly to the point of a little jump.
–Have you… forgotten something? –Asked Weems, absolutely out of her depth.
–Woman, focus, I know our parents have that effect on people. It's our first day at this school, we start effective immediately. –Said Orion and Weems eyes widened.
–Oh God, she got so horny and shocked she forgot. –Beatrice laughed hard.
–Oh, oh my! –Said Weems scrambling to organise herself and organise the things to get the children to class.