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...He is one of the well-known Sparda's descendants. The name Vergil was placed on his shoulders by the glorious bloodline. His name is a promise of a flourishing life. He was the kind of man who dared to be arrogant and had every right to be so; if someone had the guts to challenge him, he would defy them.
He was something different from his twin brother. Dante means enduring and creative. It is believed that Dante exudes positive energy,he draws people to him like a flame draws moths, and has the aura of a venerable man who catches every eyes. Compared to Dante, Vergil is like a faint soul who likes to be immersed in his own cold and lonely world. Well, He was silent, bland, and perpetually scowling. The twins’ names certainly don't sound like who they are.
People only cared about how icy and dictatorial Vergil was instead of questioning about his suffering.
Life always changes without warning. The night broke in a heartbreaking scream, at that time, when there was fire everywhere, and the last remnant left from Vergil's joyful life was Eva's “body". She was mercilessly murdered by Mundus, who also dismembered her body.
It left a huge shock to Vergil, and the him of that day varnished, making room for an insane demon who battled ceaselessly in the mire of life while chasing power as an extreme means of finding salvation.
He aspires to have power. He wants to be a strong man. He must be strong.
The strong have power, and only power gives you the right to decide your fate. Why does he not accept that morality though he is a living witness to it? He needs power. He craves power. He didn't want to be a helpless weak child like that one time when he could only hide in a corner,trembling,waiting for others to judge his fate,just to finally saw his last gentle shore - his beloved mother - be torn to bits.
A powerless person is a useless person.
Was that why mother left him behind choosing to protect Dante?
The Vergil of that year couldn't understand. The current Vergil doesn't understand either. That woman whose hair was like golden shore and hazel eyes as beautiful as gems - a beauty that belonged to a person who could bring boundless tenderness to a worn-out broken heart. He always remembers about her just for then writhe in an eternal anguish.
Mother? Why did you abandon me?
Maybe Vergil has gone insane. He always bluntly stated that he did it all for power. Power, power and power. Power? What will power give him in the end? Mom? Dad? Dante? Or the fragile childhood joy that had soon faded into nothing? He didn't know anymore. He just couldn't think straight. He searched hungrily for power, immersed in bloodlust,wandering days by days, because he wants revenge on Mundus, or perharps it is a way to keep this mortal flesh a little bit of value alive? It was ridiculous, he still laughed at Dante that he had no motivation, but actually he was the one that rotted from the inside. He was just an empty shell, a man who, after experiencing enough ups and downs in life, became dumbfounded. Mundus has been defeated and must flee, and Vergil, what will he do next...?
Power. Gain more power.
Something was always beckoning Vergil from afar, and he unconsciously walked towards it, even though he had no idea what it was. Strangely enough, waiting for him was not pain and bitterness, but the warmth he had long forgotten. There's this weird kind of person: they despise warmth, thinking it's ridiculously sentimental, but secretly crave it. Yamato stabbed in his chest no longer stinging. All Vergil felt was just infinite tenderness. It was like mother was hugging him. It was as if he was still rejoicing in his childhood years. He just felt like he was losing something.
What's that? He...didn't know...any...more...
And then the Vergil of that day laid here, as Urizen and V walked away.
…The first thing Vergil did after turning around was to look at Dante's side. Oh, he. The boy who accompanied him to defeat...himself. Silver-white spiky and messy hair. They have the same hair. Are you also a Sparda? Are you Dante's son? Who are you in the middle of this long life? Boy, who are you?
It made Vergil's heart soften for a moment by a sudden feeling like an illusion. A silent joy. But a silent joy - of him? For what? Such nonsense. That could never happen. He got nervous and unconsciously scratched the leather cover of the notebook in his hand. Only when Dante began to rush towards him did he come into focus again.
…
The first time Vergil saw the boy, he had felt this mortal body longing to be with him. He didn't like the way his inner demon eerily attached to the young man. To be attached to something is to be hindered by your emotions. To be attached to something means to have a weakness. Vergil does not accept weakness.
Dante tells Vergil he was his son.
Blood is thicker than water.
Oh he knows. But not like this. Not when Vergil desperately wanted to take the boy and make him whimper under his authority. He didn't want to do that to Dante, so explaining that weirdness by blood was a silly thing to do. He couldn't even remember how he had a son, or how his mother looked like. His memory really didn't allow him to do that.
Vergil couldn't believe he was really his son.
Nero. His name is Nero.
He's too gentle. Foolish. Gullible. Defenseless.
Can't even believe he has the same Sparda bloodline as him. The only thing they have in common is probably white hair and deep blue eyes. Vergil is stoic, insane and cold, but Nero - he is always innocently sincere. When facing evil and cruel things, he is always ready to confront them in the strongest way like a man who workships justice with all of his heart, but as soon as the other side shows weakness or innocence back to him, he quickly treats them with sincerity. That's all Vergil has learned about Nero through V's vague memories and after spending sometime beside him.
Why are you so naive?
Vergil looked at Nero, silently swallowed the inexplicable feeling in his chest. He found this young one ridiculous: a person whose emotion easily got manipulated is a weak person, a weak person has no right to make decisions about their life. On the other hand, he... pities him.
Supposing at some point, what if someone tries to take advantage of Nero and he knows that? Will he suffer? Will his heart be broken because his trust was betrayed, and such nice characteristics will be tainted?
"Why didn't you kill me? It was clear then that you had a chance to finish me off."
Vergil asked, looking straight into the boy's eyes. He hates looking into other people's eyes, but he likes these eyes. Beautiful blue. Dante says they look like gems, Seafoam Tourmaline or Blue Zircon. Foolish, no gem can be as beautiful as these eyes. Those eyes that blood had forced them to share, even if they hated each other to the core.
“No matter what happens, you're still my father. I won't kill you."
He answered Vergil. His face was so gentle and calm. People say "Don't judge the book by its cover", but look at how easy it is for Nero to "be judged". Vergil didn't show too much reaction to his answer, he still frowned. But inwardly he sneered silently and a hint of bitterness spreaded in his chest. Lying. Nero must really hate him. Someone who abandoned you since birth, let you grow up in pain and suffering, then suddenly that person came back while you were living a peaceful life, caused chaos, mass murdered and even tore off one of your arms.
“That's all? Just because of that?"
“What the hell is other reason?"
Nero eyebrows knit together, he frowned, stubbornly looking at him.Vergil's heart fluttered briefly.
And he hugged the younger man. It's strange. The warmth on his body made him shiver. Nero's body scent is interesting. The citrus flavor is so light it feels like a doubt on the mystery smell of the wood, ah, and the scent of perennial oak moss. He gives a soothing feeling like old forest which still slightly damp after a late spring rain. His body, toughen by battle, was strong and firmed. Has he ever felt so deeply when he hugs someone?... Has he ever been so attached to something?... Indeed, Vergil had held him in a shamelessly greedy way until the young man let out a small cry of pain. And he had to let go of him before things got awkward.
After that, Vergil is still Vergil. He grimaced, mocked, annoyed with the existence of everything. But in his heart, he was secretly grinning with a distorted face.
He is warm. Just like mother.
Can he, ever, fall in love with me?
But his secret smile faltered and Vergil suddenly remembered about Dante. The boy seems to be close to Dante as they have spent a lot of time together. At some point he even imitated Dante. He behaves just like Dante when he was young.
Are you like Dante, also belong to the other bright half of the world? Perharps they were born to be together.
They belong to the good. What about him? What... is he? What is he doing here?...
Vergil's life in Dante's office after coming back from the Underworld gradually came into orbit. He, like Dante, will work, fight and kill so that he can legally continue to live in this prosperous land of mankind. The young hunter would stop by from time to time, but only for a moment, to see Dante. He wouldn't talk to him, because there was basically nothing between them to talk about. When they are together, what will they do? Will Vergil wait for him to speak, and Nero, continue to fiddle with his hand? Oh, he wants to see him, but every time they meet, it's a torment.
This kind of relationship made Vergil extremely uncomfortable. The two of them can't be as close as a normal family, it's just so awkward. Vergil was annoyed. Because he cared. And also because of his caring, he was angry that he had created a weakness for himself. His daily life gradually became a vicious circle of silent fluttering, suffering, tormenting himself then heavily swallowed down the pain that had nowhere to go to and moved on to another anguished journey. Sometimes he wondered, what he continued to exist for next? To contemplate a new plan to take over the world? To continue the hysterical searching for strength? Or to take revenge on Mundus who is disappeared?
What's the meaning of life when only you wither in the middle of a hustle and bustle?
He thought about the hug of that day which he won by chance. Yes, won, life has never gifted him anything. The soft, gentle warmth on his skin made him infatuated and agonized, maybe that's the first and also the last time he could ever reach something so nice. Vergil didn't want to suffer thinking of the boy anymore. It's better to let him die than hang around in a jumble of emotions: Wondering if he will taint Nero, feeling his existence slowly loses its value, and scaring of abandonment, something he knew would never happen - Had they ever needed him, for then left him?
Vergil's demon and his humanity clashed, broke, healed themselves, and then clashed again. He saw himself as a lunatic, or a weakling. Oh . It turns out that an authoritative and cold-blooded person can be as weak as a baby bird at times, becoming a coward with a heart made of glass when he lives long enough.
The more Vergil thought, the sadder he became. As his heart dying, a deadly disease was formed. Even when he was so close to that person, he still felt how cold the world was.
...Love me!
...Please, love me!
Until Vergil discovered that he could enter Nero's dreams, he was overjoyed to the point of madness; that hope, though weak, brought tears to the stoic man's eyes. The illusory moments in Nero's dreams must have been when he felt the happiest,...the most peaceful. The false happiness that saved Vergil like a drowned man reaching for a stake. Every day, he appeared in Nero's dreams, witnessing all kinds of things happening. Sometimes, he was a butterfly sitting by the window, watching Nero read the notebook he had left behind. Sometimes, he was the wind that caressed his youthful body. And there was also a time when he appeared, competed with him, or simply walked around Nero and infatuatedly watched at him for a long time...
There are times when Nero has nightmares. Once, he kept walking around in a dark space, going on and on like a lost child. He couldn't stop panting, cold sweat poured out, but he was powerless to do anything. And Vergil was forced to appear, becoming the one to lead him out of his dream.
"Nero"
Vergil called out his name which escaping from the tip of his tongue as slicky as honey. Oh, Nero won't remember anything when he wakes up, so in the dreams, he can be as gentle as possible to him, using his rare indulgence to pamper the young one with the caring of a lover.
"Nero"
That voice was so familiar.Nero fell in a stupor, trying hard to listen when his eyes were now useless.
"What's the matter?"
Vergil asked softly. Nero looked a little hesitant. It seemed that he couldn't believe that this was Vergil - the person who can use Yamato to carve a sieve out of him - the cold and antisocial Vergil.
"Can't sleep?"
"..."
"Let me take you to your room."
"..."
"Nero?"
Vergil approached, he wanted to check on Nero's condition. If this was a nightmare, he shouldn't have been so paralyzed. Did some evil force takes action against the boy? If that was the case, then he would make them pay. But right this moment, Nero's body seemed to be released somehow, he raised his face meeting Vergil's eyes. Oh. They were close enough to feel each other's breath. Way too close. And there in those crystal eyes that he has longed for days and nights, Vergil saw an enternal attachment.
...
In another dream, they had a duel atop Qliphoth. Vergil couldn’t help but teasing Nero’s limit – the limit which the boy let him push over more and more. Nero lost because of his losing concentration, chest pierced through by Yamato and falling down on the floor. This time, Nero was strangely weak. He was no longer the hero who fiercely resisted all his attacks in the battle that day but just Nero. Vergil found out that the younger one was not able to recover as usual. He is dying. He nervously lifted him up, and hugged him, as carefully as hugging a piece of porcelain. Humans often act contrary to their heart. Since when did he act like a human? And Nero, oh, his Nero, trembling and panting, spitting out the late,late love confession as his last words.
"I love you. It's a different kind of love."
"The kind of... those time Dante teases me and Kyrie."
"I... Dante tells me lots of your stuffs."
"...Plenty of them."
"I don't understand myself either."
"But I...I love you so much..."
“Love the way you swing Yamato,”
“… or calmly read books,”
“…or meticulously clean your tea set…”
“Love your eyes.”
“…your hair.”
“ …your smug face.”
“…your voice.”
“…really,sometime,I…”
“…wish I can hear your reading…”
“…your everything.”
"…I love you..."
"…so much..."
“Am I…disgusting…?”
...
...
...Nero is in his arms, his breathing is getting weaker and weaker. Stop talking. Vergil pursed his lips, and he frowned nervously, unable to hold on to his figure. Don't force yourself to speak anymore, don't you know that you're dying? But when the young one got his love told and slowly breathed his last in his chest, Vergil closed his eyes knowing that after those long, long years, someone finally told him that he was not unwanted. He caressed Nero's eyes as if he was caressing a sleeping loved one, and then got out, letting this world collapsed on its own.
...Maybe, he can fall in love with me.
Maybe someone can love me. Mother, do you know that?...
He... he brought a stack of books over to Nero's room.
Well...that's it. Nero said he wanted to hear him read books. The surprising look on his face wasn't fake either. At first, the younger man was shy, but afterall he invited Vergil into his room, and they settled down after a few vague minutes: Vergil sat by the bed, flipping through the old books, and Nero - he was carefully tugged under the blanket by him. Nero went as red as a beetroot – he didn't expect Vergil to actually be...so caring at times.
“Can you read that one Blake poem?”
“Which one? I memorized countless of them.”
“That one… Love and harmony combine…”
“Oh, alright. So... shall I read?"
“Y…yeah…”
…
“Love and harmony combine
And round our souls entwine
While thy branches mix with mine
And our roots together join…”