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“Lady . . . Lady, please look at me.”
She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, or she felt like she would break. The hidden priestess was already holding back tears of frustration, pressing her back harder against the stone wall of the library as she tilted her head forward so that her long bangs would cover her eyes. She tried not to think about his smoky scent being so close to her as he stood in front of her with his hand pressed against the wall over her head. Lady didn’t look up when she heard the underlying pain and plea in his voice as he spoke.
I did this. I made him weak.
She couldn’t see that Dante kept his gaze on her.
“You think I’m the best of humanity, but I’m not. I’ll do anything for you. Whatever you tell me to do, I’ll do it.”
Her breath hitched. She didn’t raise her head.
A breath passed between them. Lady’s eyes still wouldn’t meet his.
“I’ll keep the worlds separated,” he continued. “I’ll keep Mundus and Vergil out of Earth. I’ll protect the humans. I’ll do it all if you asked me to, even if-” His breath caught. His throat tightened. He didn’t want to say it. He can still see her fall. He can still see her lifeless eyes. It’s getting harder to speak. Her silence is deafening, but not seeing her eyes was killing him. “Even if you die somewhere along the way, I’ll still do it. But Lady,” he raised his free hand to caress her cheek, finding no resistance as he gently tilted her chin up, brushing her long bangs back to finally look at her glossy eyes. His face inched closer, until their faces were the only thing they could see. “I would burn it all down just to bring you back.”
The priestess’ eyes widened, eyes wide and watery with shock before closing them tight, fat tears streaming down her face as her lips trembled and her breath hitched. He brought down his other arm from the wall so he could cup her face, leaning in closer so the tips of their noses would brush. Her eyes opened and they were finally locked with his.
“I can’t live in a world without you,” he breathed out. “The moment we first met, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. The moment we fought side by side together? That’s when I knew I will always want to fight by your side. That moment you chose me over everyone else, I knew it was only ever gonna be you.” He pressed his body closer, their bodies swallowing the space between them. “I thought I lost you back then. I couldn’t control myself. I didn’t want to control myself. I had never felt like tearing it all down and burning it all like I did then.”
This time, he was the one to close his eyes. They had been watering so much his vision had gotten blurry. He felt a single streak run down the bridge of his nose and fall. He opened his eyes again, not wanting to keep his truth hidden. “I know my father’s dead. There’s no way he would have left my mom or me and Vergil if he even felt a little of what I feel for you. He would have died before letting anything happen to us.” His voice dropped lower, a secret that only his world needed to know. “I’d rather die, than let anything happen to you. So please, don’t throw your life away. Not in a place like this.” He took a shaky breath, chest pushing against hers as he felt their heartbeats race. “Please, don’t leave me.”
The young hybrid’s eyes were pleading with hers as tears continued to run down her cheeks. Her eyes were mirror-like and more expressive than he had ever seen them. There was a truth in them, something honest and raw. He saw how his words chased away the darkness from them. He saw the hesitant hope and the flicker of a light there, so small and delicate but growing with each breath shared. Dante saw himself in them, reflecting the same emotions back to her.
A shaky breath made her chest flutter as the last of the darkness left, her eyes no longer shedding tears as they softened instead. Her smaller hands brushed over his sides, up his chest, and finally one hand rested on his cheek and the other at the nape of his neck. They closed their eyes and leaned in as one, Dante’s arms wrapping around her to keep her close to his body. There was no desperation, no inferno–just comfort, warmth, and a love that was unspoken and woven into their very souls as they melted into each other's embrace.
It was a long moment before their lips separated, but they still refused to part. Lady laid her head on his chest and Dante laid his on top of her head. But their quiet moment wouldn’t last for it wasn’t long before they felt the tower shake. Dante raised his head and Lady followed, eyes staring up at him with question and vulnerability, her hands came down to lay on his chest, feeling his heart beat only for her.
The hybrid placed his hand back against the wall to hold his weight as he kept their faces close, the other caressing her cheek, brushing his thumb along the scar of her nose.
Never again.
“I’ll take care of him,” he assured her. Their eyes remained locked, each memorizing the other’s face in this moment.
Another shake.
Dante pushed himself away from the wall. It was a slow part from the embrace, Lady’s hands slowly falling to her sides when his body was too far and Dante’s fingers stole one last brush on her lips, the reunited lovers reluctant to part so soon.
Dust fell from the ceiling at the next shake, the thrum of power in the tower growing.
Dante took three steps back, each step heavier than the last. With a slow turn, he took one last look at her. Her hair was long and shaggy, brushing the tops of her shoulders as it curved and spiked in different directions. There were both moist and dry tear tracks running down her face. Her clothes were slashed and torn all over. The white she had worn in her cropped leather jacket and accessories had streaks of dirt and demon blood. The scar on her nose was prominent. Only her eyes and red knee-length boots stood out vibrant against all the black she wore.
Savage. Resilient. Beautiful. Mine.
He turned away. He barely took two steps before hearing her voice call out to him.
“Dante, wait.”
He stopped, glancing back at her. She took a step closer to him, bringing Kalina Ann with her from where it had been left propped against the wall, holding it out to him. “Take this with you.” Dante met her halfway, reaching out to the bazooka and pausing when she held it close to her body. “Promise me you’ll come back.”
The demon hunter gave his huntress a lopsided smile. “To you? Always.”
Lady’s eyes glittered and the spark of her old flame lit her eyes again like they used to. That stubbornness and challenge he loved from her. “Good,” she nodded.
And with that promise, he turned. Each step grew stronger and faster, crimson coat fluttering behind him as he headed for the stairs. They just got back together and he’d be damned if he continued wasting another moment that wasn’t by her side.
The crimson devil passed through the closing portal, just barely making his way through. He dove for the top of the tower, its sides shaking as the magic that held it together for the last two millennia continued to come apart. He had the Force Edge grasped in one hand and Kalina Ann in the other, his amulet swaying on his chest. It didn’t take long to spot him, his gnarled form laying down with a trail of blood connecting to the puddle of red in the center. He should have known by now that Arkham wouldn’t give up so easily, not when there was still power just out of his reach.
Dante landed in front of the scarred man, ground shaking with another groan at the impact. Golden and orange light enveloped his form as he transformed back.
Arkham had frozen upon Dante’s landing, twisted eyes slowly rolling up his form, a too-wide grin revealing his gums and sharp teeth. His voice was low and mocking. “Have you come to gloat, devil boy?”
The young devil’s face was stoic and unmoving. The eyes that stared back at him down the bridge of an aristocratic nose were no longer clear turquoise waters, they were the color of spilled blood, the iris and sclera blending together in a swirl of unsettling red. Only his pupils were a dark crimson, and they made the illusion of something much larger glowering down at him from the dark all the more unnerving. For the first time since leaving Mundus’ court, the clown demon shuddered at the wrath and bloodlust he could feel emanating from the true devil with arcs of red lightning around him. A beast just barely contained. He was a mirror image of the demon general that stood at this very tower so long ago who had mourned the love of his lady love. A Sparda who already took their anger out on the tyrant king who murdered his lover was not one to fear as much as a Sparda with a lover that waited for him, and her only true enemy was sprawled at that devil’s feet.
Thunder boomed in the distance and the sky came alive with lightning, sharp and bright, casting the true born devil in dark shadows that fell on Arkham’s entire form and extended to the blood that trailed behind him. The red eyes were the only thing that remained so bright against the intense shadows with ghostly white hair framing the shadows of his face.
The clown’s grin wavered, hands beginning to tremble uncontrollably and form shaking not long after. It had not been long since the devil landed, but the jester had had enough. So he did what he did best, speak, though he struggled to get the first words out, each flowing easier. “Come on, devil boy. Say something!” He tried for his grin. “Are you just gonna stand there like a- like some kind of divinity statue?”
Every word uttered only punctuated the silence that came from the devil.
The silence ate at him, so he snapped, voice rising higher with every word. “It was all for her, wasn’t it? You could have taken it, you know! Your father’s sealed power. There’s no other truer devil that had the power of a demon king like Sparda! But you repeat his mistakes, all for the sake of a SAPIEN PRIESTESS THAT COULD NEVER BE WORTH BE DIRT BENEATH HIS FEET! MARY-”
He coughed up blood. Once. Twice. He gasped for breath, coughing crimson again on the empty space the devil had been. Black pupils shook as he spotted the pool of red from beneath his chest steadily growing to meet the spatters in front of him. His body began to feel heavy and cold, the burn of the broadsword boiling his insides. He turned his head slowly, muscles feeling heavy. Crimson eyes continued to stare down at him as the true devil removed his sword. The pool of red rushed forward in all directions from the opened wound.
The son of Sparda turned away, slicing the Force Edge through the air to clear the blood from its royal Makaian steel, another line of red painting the tower. He began to walk towards the edge, crimson coat swaying in the breeze, the hidden devil wings from his Devil Trigger.
Arkham’s breaths came in rasps as he tried to swallow the blood he could and spit out what he couldn’t.
The broken man shuddered, eyes no longer angry or hungry, only pleading. “Wait,” he rasped, voice too low even for him. He reached out a hand towards the retreating figure, talons shrunken back. “Wait.” His vision was beginning to blur, darkness encroaching in from the edges. He could see the blur of red halt but not turn. “Please-” he coughed and took a raspy breath “-please, watch over M-Mary.” His throat threatened to close up, but John continued. “Please, pro-protect my litt-tle Mar-ry.”
The weight of the silence was different. The anger wasn’t gone, but the man-turned-demon knew he heard him.
“Mary’s dead.”
John’s eyes widened, moisture building at the corners of his eyes.
“It’s Lady.” Dante turned his head enough to look back with a single eye, though he was too far now and John’s vision was spotting so much that he couldn’t tell if they were devil red or human blue. “She’s mine to protect now.”
Tears bubbled and dropped against the stone. He didn’t deserve the relief that came to him at those words. For the first time since he was last human, John sobbed. His head rested against the wet stone, too heavy to hold. Not long after, his low cries and shivers suddenly stopped, silence falling on the top of the tower once more as blank human eyes stared into the distance.
Lightning struck once more, framing the dead body of John Arkham in pale light. Droplets of rain began to fall from the sky, erasing the tears of the man and washing away the blood of the devil.
Dante turned his head forward once more and reached the edge of the tower, activating his trigger after diving headfirst.
Lady waited for him not far from the base of the tower, her eyes locking on his form as he swooped down towards her and landed in a crouch.
Dante gave her a half smile, holding out Kalina Ann for her to take. He expected her to take back her only weapon, but before he could assure her that her personal mission was completed, there was a splash of a boot hitting a puddle and suddenly he was dropping the bazooka in exchange for his Lady. She shoved her face into his chest as her hands clutched at the back of his coat. Dante tightened his hold on her, resting his chin on top of her head as she took deep breaths, assuring herself of his presence.
The world fell away as he breathed in her scent of gunsmoke, leather, and lilies. The light rain drizzled around them as he held her close. “It’s all over now,” he whispered through her hair, kissing the crown of her head. He felt her head shift, peaking down for turquoise to meet ruby and emerald. They looked soft now and will only ever be for him. Her hand came up to lay on his cheek. Dante wondered, not for the first time, how it could be that in such a short time, the fierce woman in his arms found her way so deep into his heart and soul.
And as they both leaned in for a passionate kiss, he wondered if it had taken just as little time for his father to fall for his priestess.