The Devils Cry Chapter 2-11

[eiahmon]

Title: The Devils Cry Part 2
Game: Devil May Cry
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and it’s characters and situations are the sole property of Capcom. I am making no money or profit off of this fanfiction and no copyright infringement is intended. On the other hand all original characters and situations are mine so please don’t run off with them without my knowledge or consent.
Summary: A year after the events in “The Devils Cry”, things in the Sparda family have calmed down, well, as much as possible with them at any rate. But when strange things start happening, including a reappearance of Alastair's dreams of the unknown castle, they realized that they still have a long way to go.
SPOILER WARNING!!!: Spoilers for all three Devil May Cry games.

11.

Sparda crept through the Underworld, trying very hard not to be seen. He needed to get to Mundus’ throne room while the Dark Emperor was out and about, and he couldn’t afford to lose the element of surprise just yet. He had to retrieve what his son had lost, and that would be very hard to do if he was seen. He had left Lar'cincel after giving Luxian strict orders to stay in his room and speak to no one unless they initiated the conversation and making sure that everyone else was suitably occupied. If Vergil or Atalia had known what he was going to do, they would have insisted on coming with him, and he had to do this alone. He thought that it was rather sad that the Sparda family patriarch had to sneak out of his own home.

Reaching the door to the heart chamber, he cracked the door open and peaked inside. Seeing no one about, he stepped inside and shut the door quietly behind him. Leaping across the large heart, he noted that it was beating, and that meant that the throne room doors would not be sealed. He landed on the opposite platform and pressed himself against the throne room doors, listening for anyone that might be on the other side. When he heard nothing, he felt around with his senses just to be safe. Sensing nothing, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

*****

Atalia sat in the library, reclining back in her chair, her feet up on the desk. Sparda thought that he had been sly and sneaky when he had left the tower, but he had never been able to hide things from her. She knew where he was going and what he was planning to do, and she could understand his desire to do it alone. Instead she occupied her thoughts with trying to figure out how demons had gotten past the wards she had put on the Sparda house. Vergil and Vergil should have been perfectly safe as long as they stayed inside the house, and she could think of no reason why the wards suddenly fell.

“Is there something on your mind, child?” Atalia looked up to see her grandmother standing by library door.

“Yes, there is actually.”

“Well then, why don’t you tell me about it, and we’ll see what we can do about it.” Zenedris eased herself into a chair across from her granddaughter.

Atalia sighed. “It’s about the wards that I put up around Dante’s house. They should have withstood anything that anyone other than another Sarcesti could have thrown at them. Instead they failed in less than five minutes.” Zenedris, in the process of taking a sip of the wine she had just conjured,, choked and sputtered.

"Are you sure?” she wheezed as she struggled to catch her breath.

“Yes. If they had held like they should have, then Vergil would not be here now. He would still be in the human world with his father, uncle, and cousin.”

“And you could find no reason for the failure.” It wasn’t a question.

“No, they should have held. There was no reason for them to fall. None at all.”

“You realize what this means, child.”

“Yes, Liestia, I do.”

“I will speak to Sparda upon his return. Until then we will keep this between ourselves. Is that understood?”

Atalia bowed her head. “Yes, Liestia Mar’ne.”

*****

Walking swiftly, yet silently over to the throne, Sparda soon saw what he was searching for. A simple pedestal, constructed of black marble, sat to the left of the throne. Hovering a few inches over its flat top was a single ball composed of energy that glowed with a golden light. So Atalia had been right...

Approaching the pedestal, he reached for small glowing orb. With his fingers less than an inch from his son’s missing essence, Sparda paused. Something wasn’t right. His demonic senses were tingling, telling him that something about this was off. It had been too easy to reach the throne.

“So, Sparda, you managed to escape after all.”

*****

Dante stepped over the threshold and felt a wave of sensations crash over him. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned as a blinding headache seared his temples, causing him to sink to his knees. He didn’t hear Alastair calling to him as the block on his memories, which had been cracking for the past several months, shattered, and a cacophony of thoughts and images rushed into the empty void. He clutched his head in his hands, which were shaking like mad, and tried to stop the flow, feeling that his head would explode if he didn’t.

...he and Vergil, laughing on their fourth birthday...

...his first day of school, and the teasing over his white hair...

...the first time his father handed him a sword. It was a practice sword, but still...

...his father’s proud smile as he advanced in his weapons training...

...his mother scolding him for getting his new clothes dirty...

...the futileness of trying to drag Vergil away from his books...

...the night that Sparda left and never came back...

...the night that Luxian came to the castle...!

“NO!” Dante screamed, stumbling backward in a desperate attempt to get away from the room. A hand clamped down in a vise like grip on his wrist, dragging him forward away from the door and the prospects of escape.

“You can’t go Dante.” a voice that he recognized as his brother’s said “You must remember this.”

“I don’t want to.” he heard himself groan. Groan? He did NOT groan thank you very much!

“You HAVE to, brother.”

With another pained moan, Dante sank to the rug, unconscious.

*****

Sparda eyed the direction the voice had come from warily. He didn’t see or sense anyone there, but the voice had come from inside the throne room. He didn’t recognized the voice either.

A laugh, and a figure emerged from behind one of the pillars, putting Sparda on guard. He knew this person.

“Don’t you even recognize your Master?” the person, a pale skinned being with a human appearance, black hair, and blood red eyes.

“Forgive me, Mundus.” Sparda sneered, not using a title of any kind “I was in the belief that you haven’t been my master in over two thousand years.”

“I plan to soon remedy that situation.” Mundus said lightly, casually walking around the pillars like he was on a Sunday stroll “Soon Sparda, you and your family will all be under my control again. Except for the younger of your two half breed sons, of course. He caused me far too much trouble to allow me to live.”

Sparda raised an eyebrow at this. He himself had caused Mundus far more trouble than Dante ever had, so why...? Ah, he smirked when the true reason occurred to him.

“What is the matter, Mundus? Can’t stand to be outdone by a half breed? Was it an insult to your royal self that a Sparda of human blood was able to bring you down so easily?” He laughed lightly, careful not to take his eyes off of his former master for an instant. Mundus’ red eyes narrowed.

“You talk more than you used to, Sparda.” he said “Is there a reason for this? Did your imprisonment and torture you affect you more than you care to admit? Are you weak?”

Sparda snorted, calling his father’s Ensouled to him. “Hardly.”

*****

Slap. “Get up, Dad!” Slap. “We got things to do!” Another slap. “C’mon, move, damnit!”

Dante groaned again, not wanting to wake up just yet. He was still tired.

“Five more minutes, Mom.” he mumbled, going to roll over on his side. He heard an exasperated sigh, and reflected that his school day was not complete if he didn’t give his mother hell when she tried to get him up in the morning. She grabbed him by the shoulder to keep him from turning over.

“I said... GET UP!” Her hand came down on his left cheek so hard he felt his jaw creak as it tried to pop out of joint. Well, she had never tried to wake him up like THAT before... Before...? Wait a minute, why was he on the floor? Had he rolled out of bed again? Vergil had once said that he could fall two or three stories and stay asleep when he hit the ground. Dante chuckled and cracked his eyes open, expecting to see his mother irritated face hanging over him. Instead he saw someone who looked something like his dad, only more feminine.

“Dad?” he asked groggily “When did you have a sex change operation?”

He heard Vergil laugh and wondered briefly why Vergil was in his room. Vergil was always up before Dante and never step foot into his brother’s disaster area of a bedroom unless absolutely necessary. His dad’s feminine face twisted into an angry scowl.

“Damnit Dad!” he snarled “Snap out of it before I forget the slaps and just knock the shit out of you!”

Dante blinked, then his mind caught up with his body, causing him to blush a lovely shade of red when he realized his mistake. He sat up and looked around, realizing that he now recognized the room he was in. Vergil had been right; this had been their playroom, and the room that Vergil had slept in had been their parents’ bedroom.

He sat up, rubbing his head from where, he guessed, it had connected solidly with the hard floor.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Alastair.” he said sheepishly.

“You’d better be.” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Raking his fingers through his hair, Dante stood up and stretched, flexing his muscles. He let himself go slack for a bit, took a deep breath, and looked at his brother, who was leaning casually against the wall.

“I know where the gate is.” he said.

Vergil looked at him sharply. “Where?”

“In the basement.”

“We’ve already been in the basement, Dad.” Alastair said, rolling her eyes in exasperation “There’s nothing there.”

“There’s nothing in the first basement, yes, but there is something in the second basement.”

“Second basement?” One of Vergil’s eyebrows went up.

“Yes, the second basement.”

Alastair rolled her eyes again. “Cut the theatrics, Dad, and tell us how in the hell we get to this mysterious second basement.”

“Hey, Verg, do you remember that hidden stairway we found when we were kids.”

Vergil shook his head. “No, but I assume that you do?”

“Of course I do. The reason we couldn’t find a way further down in the first basement is because the stairway to the second one is hidden on the third floor.”
 

“So we have to go up?” Alastair said.

“Yup.”

“Well, let’s go then.” Alastair pushed away from the wall she had been leaning against and walked out of the room.

“That girl is too damn direct sometimes.” Dante said.

“Look who she gets it from.” Vergil said wryly.

“Too right. I guess we should follow her.”

“I guess that you may be right.”

“Let’s gooooooooo, you two!” Alastair called from somewhere down the hallway. The sound echoed in the empty corridor, making the twins wince.

“Let’s go, before she does that again.” Vergil groaned.

Dante laughed lightly and, ignoring his brother’s irritated glare, walked out of the room.

*****

Sparda realized that maybe he should have run from this particular fight. He hated to admit it, but forty nine years of imprisonment, with forty eight of those with a collar that completely suppressed his demonic powers, had weakened him considerably. With the gradual failure of the collar, his power had returned and had begun to slowly rebuild his wasted body, but he was still weak. He needed a few more weeks to completely recover, hence his reason for keeping his escape a secret.

Mundus, with nothing to do but brood for 2,000 years had grown in power, and his previous losses to Sparda and Dante seemed to have taught him something. Gone was the talk, and the mocking, and the boasts about his own power. Mundus was not giving Sparda a moment to breathe. During a brief lull in the action, Sparda glanced over his shoulder to where the tiny golden globe sat perched atop the pedestal. If he could get to it and then escape back to Lar’cincel...

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned just in time to see Mundus’ enormous blade coming down towards his head. He brought the Talthos up to block, but he didn’t have the time to get his balance right before the blades connected. Sparda stumbled backward, nearly dropping his sword, and another swing knocked him down completely.

“So ends the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda.” Mundus sneered, raising his blade for a swing that would cut the younger demon in half.

“Stop!”

*****

Finding the stairway that Dante had spoken of had been relatively simple. It had been hidden inside one of the columns that supported the massive roof. Inside was the narrow staircase that spiraled down without any landings or other doors until they reached the very bottom. As they descended the stairs, using Alastair's lightning ability for light, they could all hear the ominous rumbling that Alastair had described from her dreams. As they descended even lower, the rumbling turned into a pulsing beat that vibrated in their ears. The steps then abruptly ended in a single, nondescript door. The three looked at each other nervously for a moment, before Vergil took a deep breath and grasped the doorknob. He turned the knob one turn and pushed the door open to reveal a large room that was bare, except for a large seal on a floor that appeared to be older than the rest of the castle. Stepping out of the stairwell and walking up to the edge of the circle, they could see that a large circle had been inscribed there, with arcane symbols etched inside the large circle. All of the lines were glowing red, lighting the room in a blood red glow.

“The gate is closed.” Vergil said quietly. Dante nodded, thinking that this would be his fourth foray into the Underworld, Alastair’s first, and who knew how many times this would be for Vergil.

“Do you think that we can pass through?” Alastair wondered.

Dante shrugged. “Only one way to find out.” He strode forward across the seal, the glowing lines beginning to pulse in time with his heartbeat as he stopped in the center. His eyes closed for a second, then his figure began to fade and dissolve. Then he disappeared.

“Well, I guess that answers that question.” said Alastair flippantly “You’re next, Uncle Vergil.” Vergil turned his head and looked at her.

“What?” she said “You honestly didn’t expect me to leave you here last so you could chicken out, did you?” She gave him a small push forward. “Go.” Staggering forward a few steps, nearly losing his balance, he looked back over his shoulder and glared at her. She only smiled cheekily at him. Turning back to the seal on the floor, he shook his head with a sigh and walked forward to stand in the center. Remembering what to do to pass through a gate like this one, he closed his eyes and focused his will on his destination. He saw the glow of the circle brighten through his eyelids, then he felt the disconcerting feeling of being taken apart and sent through a very small hole in the fabric of space and time. Then it stopped, and he opened his eyes to see Dante waiting for him, tapping his foot impatiently.

Vergil stepped out of the swirling vortex of light and walked over to his brother to wait, and a few moments later, Alastair appeared. She looked around her for a moment, then turned her gaze to her father and uncle. She nodded once, as if finding everything to her approval.

“Cool.” was all she said before walking past the two men and entering the fleshy corridor behind them.

“I KNOW she’s my daughter alright.” Dante said snappishly before following her.

Vergil knew that he should have found that funny, but he found himself unable to laugh at his twin’s words. Instead, he only smirked and followed his brother.

*****

“Stop!”

Mundus paused in his swing to look over at the owner of the voice, giving Sparda time to get to his feet and back away. He glanced over at the throne room doors to see Atalia, in her natural form, standing there. She raised her hands, her power gathering around her fingers and she began spraying large chunks of ice at the demon lord. Mundus roared in frustration and flung his arm up to shield his face, making Sparda think briefly of a schoolyard bully getting pounded by someone stronger.

“Go get it, Sparda!” Atalia yelled “Get it and run!” He didn’t hesitate, dropping his human visage for his demon form, allowing him to sprint faster than human eyes could follow to the pedestal. His hand closed on the golden ball, and he felt the warmth of love and recognition from it and he cupped it protectively to him. Closing his hands around it, he turned back to where Atalia was still making Mundus feel the heat of the Sarcesti power. She had exchanged the ice for the Saracestis’ own unique brand of magic, and Mundus was still firmly on the defensive, having never faced a purely magical barrage before. He smirked, another trait that had been passed on to his children and grandchildren, and ran past his former master towards the doors. He paused and waited as Atalia threw one last spell at Mundus, then she darted out after him. They pushed the doors shut before Mundus could recover his bearings, and the two of them used a joint spell against the large heart, sealing the door.

“That idiot never realized when he created this thing that it would seal the door from both sides.” Atalia said with a chuckle.

“Too true.” Sparda agreed “Shall we go my dear?”

“Yes, let’s. There are a few people back a Lar’cincel that are waiting for you.”

Sparda’s eyes widened. “They’re here?”

She smiled and nodded.

“Well, what are we waiting for, woman? Let’s go!” He took her by the hand and began to drag her back towards Lar’cincel.

*****

Vergil sat nervously in the main room of Sparda Tower. When they had come out the end of the fleshy corridor, the younger Vergil had been waiting there for them. As the three of them had stared at him in shock, he had only grinned cheekily at them and run to them and swept them up in a hug.

The elder Vergil had stared at his son in shock before, taking him by the arms and forcing him away so he could look him over. Satisfied that the boy was alright, he had wrapped his arms around him, and the two had stayed that way for awhile until a muted cough from Dante had made them realized exactly where they were. As soon as they broke apart, Dante had shoved him aside, hugging his adopted son so hard, it was like he was trying to squeeze the life out of him. Then Alastair had coughed and had given her brother a hug once her father had stepped back.

Once the little family reunion had been completed, the younger Vergil had given them another cheeky grin, then he had led them to Lar’cincel.

It hadn’t been a very long walk as it turned out that the gate had deposited them into the area where the seven demon families had their homes. Well, six of the seven, the elder Vergil had amended, seeing the charred ruins of the Sarcesti home. He had forced himself to keep going once Lar’cincel had come into view. He had lived there, with Luxian, for many years, and while he didn’t have any memories of that time, the feelings the sight of the black edifice invoked were not pleasant. Seeing his father’s distress, the younger Vergil had taken him gently by the arm and pulled him forward.

 

“The memories aren’t good for me either.” he had said quietly.

Thankfully, when they stepped into the tower, Luxian had been nowhere in sight. A demon that Vergil could only vaguely remember greeted them, saying something about how happy he was to meet his grandsons, and his great-granddaughter. Sparda was currently busy elsewhere in the Underworld; would they like some refreshment while they waited? Vergil had just sank down into the offered chair without a word, thoughts of what his father would say when they saw each other swirling through his mind. He hung his head and hid his face in his hands, dreading, and looking forward to, that meeting. He didn’t notice his godmother slipping quietly from the room.

It didn’t seem like that much later before a all too familiar aura enveloped the room, causing him to look up.

Sparda was there, standing in the doorway, his gaze swinging back and forth between his two sons. And then he smiled. His smile; it was one of the few things that Vergil could still remember about his childhood, an affectionate, proud smile. Shakily, Vergil stood up from his chair. His father was here, and there was no anger or reproach in those powder blue eyes, only love and relief. Dante also stood up, and the three looked at each other for a moment, before Vergil let out a choked sob and threw himself in his father’s arms, bursting into tears for the second time in less than twenty four hours.

Sparda wrapped one arm around his older son and held out the other to Dante. Dante hesitated for a moment, seeming to be waiting for something else.

His mother, Sparda thought sadly. He gestured for Dante to come closer and smiled reassuringly at him. Almost warily, Dante carefully stepped up to his father and brother before allowing himself to be enveloped in the long forgotten embrace. They never noticed Talthos shooing Alastair, Atalia, and the younger Vergil from the room and shutting the door behind them.

“I’ve missed you boys.” Sparda said quietly, giving the twins a brief squeeze. Vergil and Dante nodded simultaneously, saying nothing. Sparda smiled again, before giving each one a small kiss on the top of their head. They stood that way for a while before Dante backed away, blushing to his core and beginning to straighten his clothes, trying to act cool. Vergil chuckled before also backing away, smirking at his brother’s embarrassment.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t you DARE laugh.” Dante snarled.

Sparda laughed lightly before going to the door and readmitting the others. He gestured for everyone to sit down, and once everyone was comfortable, including Zenedris Sarcesti, he sighed and said:

“I guess some explanations are in order.” His glance strayed over to Atalia, who winced. She hung her head for a moment, before sitting up straight and squaring her shoulders, and nodding at him. He sighed again, then looked up in the direction of stairs.

“LUXIAN!” he roared “GET DOWN HERE!” Both Vergils sucked in a breath at the demon’s name, and Sparda gave them an apologetic look.

“Don’t worry.” he said quietly “He can’t do anything unless I give him leave to do so. But there are things that he has been...” He winced. “misinformed on, and I wish to set everything right while I can.” The two nodded and backed away from the door a bit. Sparda growled under his breath, knowing that his brother was responsible for his son and grandson’s actions, and he was going to make Luxian pay for it later.

A few moments later, Luxian, looking a bit ragged from continuously fighting the patriarchal magic, came into the room.

“Sit.” Sparda pointed to a chair farthest from Dante and Vergil and closest to Talthos “Say nothing and do nothing until I give you permission to do so. Am I understood?” Luxian bit his lip and grimaced before forcing out a growled: “Yes, Cincel.” He then went and sat down where he had been directed, not noticing or caring that his father’s arm did not come around him comfortingly like it normally would have done.

Sparda looked down at the floor for a moment before looking back up at Atalia and catching her eye. She nodded again.

“So I suppose I should start at the beginning...” he began.

Chapter 10 -- Chapter 12

Back to the Archive