The Devils Cry Chapter 2-13

[eiahmon]

Title: The Devils Cry Part 2
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.

13.

Demons scattered out of her way as Zenedris Sarcesti strode angrily through the guest quarters of Lar’cincel. She was looking for one demon in particular, and when she found her.... She was afraid to finish her own thought.

The walls of the obsidian tower rattled as she passed by, her rage at the one that had betrayed her family pouring off of her in waves. How dare she? How dare she! She reached her destination and thrust her hand out in front of her, palm facing outward, causing the door to explode inward into hundreds of tiny shards. On the other side of the door, sat Cijarnae, looking at her in wide eyed shock, and his parents. Cijarnae’s mother looked up in horror; she knew what her grandmother was there for.

“Leave.” Zenedris said coldly to Cijarnae and his father. She waited until they had left, then she put up a privacy spell and turned her attention to her grandchild.

“Aselni.” she growled “Tell me now. Why? How could you do something like that? Why would you betray your family.”

“I didn’t Liestia, I swear! I would never..!”

“Do no lie to me! I saw you in Talthos memory. You are the one that cast the stasis spell on him. And I am willing bet that you are the one that brought the wards down around Dali’mar’ne and the house of your cousin’s godson.” Zenedris’ voice dropped to a frosty whisper. “Is that why you were so upset about me sending Cijarnae to Lar’cincel to retrieve Vergil Sparda? Because it upset your master’s -” She sneered on the word. “plans?”

“I would not! I would never do such a thing, Liestia!”

“I know that you did, Aselni, so don’t bother denying it anymore. You know what the punishment is for a familial betrayal is in the Sarcesti family.”

Aselni hung her head. “Please Liestia-Mar’ne, understand that I wasn’t given a choice. Lord Mundus had threatened Cijarnae. I couldn’t have allowed any harm to come to my only child. I did what Mundus ordered to protect him!”

“You should have told me! And what’s more, then what is your excuse for forcing Talthos under the stasis spell? Cijarnae wasn‘t born until eight centuries ago.”

“He was trying to protect Lord Sparda from his traitorous son! I was doing what was right!”

“And since when have any conflicts within the seven families been the business of Mundus? You should have told me! If you had, you wouldn’t be facing a death sentence. We have lost seven in our family, because of you! You are lucky that the Death Sentence was stolen from us years ago, because otherwise, I would take off your head right now.” Her eyes narrowed in sudden thought. Aselni shuddered; now she was going to be in even more trouble, it that was possible.

“The Death Sentence, a Sarcesti family artifact that disappeared from the vault, a vault that is accessable to only those of Sarcesti blood.” Zenedris whispered dangerously “You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”

Aselni swallowed and nodded hesitantly. Zenedris growled, turning sharply away from her granddaughter and beginning to pace the room.

“Why did you take it?” she asked shortly.

“Lord Mundus needed it on Mallet Island.”

“What for?”

“I do not know.”

“Hmmmm, Dante can probably tell me what it was used for. In the meantime, come with me and obey.” The matriarchal magic wrapped around Aselni, forcing her to rise to her feet and follow her grandmother out of the room.

Zenedris went back to the family room, looking for Sparda, who could tell her where she could put Aselni until her sentence could be passed. Zenedris did not believe her granddaughter’s story of being coerced by a threat to Cijarnae at all. She found the Sparda patriarch there, with his sons and grandchildren and his former wife there as well.

“Dante,” she asked “when you were on Mallet Island did you encounter an artifact known as the Death Sentence?”

Dante nodded. “The Death Sentence I used to get the Melancholy Soul, which I then used to open a door to the castle sewers so I could get the Guiding Light. The Pride of Lion allowed me to challenge a Shadow so I could open the door that led to the stairway that led up to the Death Sentence.” He huffed, blowing his bangs out of his face.

“Wasn't used for much was it?” Atalia said.

“Not really. There seemed to be no real point for any of them being there. Why do you ask? No wait, don’t tell me, they’re Sarcesti family artifacts aren’t they?”

Zenedris chuckled despite her anger. “Close child. The Death Sentence is, and it was stolen from the Sarcesti family vault several years ago.”

“I have the Death Sentence and the Pride of Lion, Liestia.” Atalia said quietly “After Dante told me of them, I went to the ruins of Mallet and retrieved them. The Melancholy Soul is lost, I’m afraid.”

“Speaking of souls...” Sparda said, rising from his seat and sitting down next to his older son. Vergil looked at him questioningly.

“What is it?” he asked. He looked over at his godmother to see understanding dawning on her face.

“What do you remember from when you uncle took you?” Sparda asked.

Vergil shook his head. “Nothing.” he replied.

Sparda shook his head in disbelief. “Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Nothing.” Sparda looked over at Atalia, who shrugged.

Zenedris stepped forward. “I noticed that too, and I find it strange. When I was looking through your memories -” She shot an apologetic look at Vergil. “- I could find only a few of your younger years, and those were faded.”

“I forgot everything from those days too.” Dante said quietly.

“But not completely.” Atalia said “You did remember some things, just not everything. You could remember your parents faces, and their voices, and things like that.”

“I could only vaguely remember Dad‘s face.” Vergil said quietly. “Nothing more.”

“What could cause that?” the younger Vergil asked.

“Magic.” Sparda said shortly, his eyes narrowing “Sarcesti magic.”

“Who would have done the casting?” Atalia wondered. “Anybody with Sarcesti blood would have had the power.”

Zenedris turned to Aselni. “Was it you?” she asked, putting the matriarchal magic in her words to force the younger demon to tell the truth.

“No, Mar’ne.” Aselni replied quietly.

“Do you know who it was then?”

“No, Mar’ne.”

“At any rate,” Sparda interrupted “it seems that someone put a block on my son’s memories, and we need to break it.”

“I’m not sure that I want to remember.” Vergil said quietly.

“I wonder who put the block there, and why?” Alastair said.

“To better mold him into the better soldier, why else?” Dante said with a shrug “If he can’t remember where he came from, then he won’t care where he’s going.”

“But I can’t remember really anything, not up until just over a year ago.”

“That may have been your own doing.” Zenedris said gently.

He looked up at her. “Why?”

“I know from the shape you were in when you came to Dali’mar’ne that you were... mistreated during your imprisonment. Things at first must have been so bad that you made yourself forget to save your sanity.”

“Such was the price for my failure.” he said so softly that those around him had to strain to hear. He looked at his father, bracing himself, expecting to see anger and disappointment. Instead he saw only love and sympathy, and he leaned into the full demon’s arms, sighing in relief.

“I am fully aware of what they did to you, Vergil.” Sparda said quietly “And I can understand why you would want to forget, but you’ve forgotten everything that made you, you. You need to let us break this block, so you can be yourself again.”

Vergil shook his head. “I don’t want to remember. I’m afraid to.”

Sparda sighed softly; if Vergil didn’t want to remember, then they couldn’t force him. He did, however, have something that might change the boy’s mind.

“The block on your memories was not the only thing that made you change.” he said. Vergil sat up and looked at him. “There was something else taken from you, years ago. I watched Luxian do it. You fought him with all of your strength, but he was much too strong for you. What he took made it easier for him to make you in what he wanted you to be.”

“What is it?” Vergil asked.

Sparda reached into the breast pocket of his dark purple jacket, disabling the protective spells he had put on it, and pulled out a small ball that was glowing and pulsating with a golden light.

Vergil’s eyes widened. “What is it?” he asked softly.

“It is the missing part of your soul.” Sparda whispered, holding out his son’s hand and gently placing the ball on his palm “Taken from you when you were sixteen.” Vergil cupped it in his hands, looking at it in something akin to awe.

“With it gone,” Sparda continued “you no longer felt remorse for the things that Luxian was forcing you to do. You no longer cared what happened to you brother or the world at large. All he had to do was whisper in your ear about getting my power and my sword so you could avenge you mother, and you went from there.”

The tiny ball flared briefly before dissolving into mist, similar to what had come out of the Alastor sword, and being inhaled by Vergil on his next breath. Vergil stared blankly at his empty palms for a moment before beginning to shake. Sparda put his arms around him and pulled him to him, rocking him back and forth. Vergil gasped as a choked sob slipped out, then he burst into tears.

“He’s been crying alot here lately.” Dante quipped, eliciting a glare from his father, his daughter, and nephew.

Sparda gathered Vergil up into his arms and stood up. “I’m taking him upstairs to rest.” he said quietly “We’ll be back once he’s calmed down.” He looked over at Zenedris. “I take it you need a place to put her?”

Zenedris glanced back at Aselni and nodded. Sparda closed his eyes for just a moment, and everyone in the room felt the slight shifting of the magic within the tower. Sparda opened his eyes and said to Zenedris: “You will be able to access the lowermost levels for a short time. You can put her down there until you’ve decided what to do with her.” Zenedris nodded, and Sparda walked out of the room, whispering words of comfort to the distressed half demon in his arms as he went.

*****

A tall demon with hair the color of molten silver and eyes the color of lightning walked slowly towards the throne room. Too bad there is no such thing as fashionably late in the demon world, he through ruefully. He knew that he was not going to like what Lord Mundus had to tell him, and that was why he was moving as slow as possible from his family’s tower towards the heart chamber and the throne room. He had left his son with strict instructions to keep the wards at full strength and to let no one in until his return. If he didn’t return at all, then they were to shut the tower up tight and rely on their magic until they were able to reach either the Sarcestis or the Spardas. He was not holding out hope for reaching either family. The Sarcesti home had been destroyed - with his family’s help, he thought bitterly, and the residents of it imprisoned in the Forgotten Levels. And who knew what was going on with the Sparda family these days.

He pushed open the doors that led into the heart chamber and effortlessly jumped across the gap to the throne room doors. Taking a breath to steel himself and calm his nerves, he checked one more time to make sure his sword was in place on his back and that his magic was ready to go before pushing open the large double doors. He noted that there were no guards, and that set him on edge, as only when Mundus had something unpleasant for him and his family to do did the guards not appear. He wished, not for the first time, that he had his father’s more powerful Ensouled, but it had vanished over two thousand years ago, along with his father, as well as his mother. The other demons had never been heard from again.

He blinked at the sudden brightness in the throne room and walked up to the dais, where he kneeled, his senses on full alert.

“My Lord,” he said “You summoned me.”

“Yes, Nestor.” Mundus’ voice boomed “Rise.”

Nestor rose to his feet, wondering why Mundus’ normal form of a pale skinned, red eyed human had such a booming voice. When he had been imprisoned in the marble statue, his voice had matched him much better.
He looked up at the Dark Emperor. “What does my lord wish of me?”

“I have orders for you and your family, Nestor. You did so well with the attack on the Sarcesti tower that I want you to now bring your magic down to bear on the Sparda tower.”

Nestor felt his jaw drop, and he hastily pulled it back up. “You want us to attack Lar’cincel, my lord? But the wards, they are too powerful!”

“You brought down Dali’mar’ne’s wards without any trouble.” Mundus said dismissively “Lar’cincel should only be a moderate challenge. The traitorous Sparda is now within Lar’cincel, along with the freed Sarcestis. I want them all recaptured within the next few hours.”

Nestor couldn‘t believe that he was hearing this. “But my lord, such a task would be suicide! We are not powerful enough! The only reason we breached the wards of Dali’mar’ne was because you somehow convinced that one to betray her family! We could never hope to accomplish this!”

“That is enough, Nestor! You have your orders, and you will carry them out!”

Nestor opened his mouth and uttered something that he though he would never say to Mundus.

“No.”

“What did you say?’ Mundus growled dangerously.

“I said no. You request something that is impossible. I will not risk my family on such a suicide mission.”

“You will do as I ordered, Nestor, or are you rebelling too?”

Nestor straightened up and glared. “I suppose that I should. I always have had suspicions about your involvement in my parents’ disappearance. Add that to your orders seem to be bordering on the ridiculous these days.” He shook his head sadly. Then, taking advantage of Mundus shock at such open defiance, he began to ritual chant of secession. “I, Nestor Valters, patriarch of Clan Valters, hereby do sever all ties to the Dark Emperor of the Underworld, known as Mundus. I do this for reasons that include: the unexplained disappearance of my father, the unjustified attack on the Sarcesti clan, and the risk to my family. From hereon, no Valters shall follow Mundus or obey his orders, and we are now free and independent of the imperial family.” Finished with the chant, he glared at Mundus, who was still staring at him in shock, and drove the point home. “Go to hell, Mundus.”

He then turned sharply and began to walk back towards the doors, expecting a lance in the back at any moment. But Mundus seemed to be in deeper shock than he thought, and the Dark Emperor did nothing to stop him as he walked out.

Once the throne room doors shut behind him, he sank down to the ground, shaking like an leaf in a windstorm. Had he really just done that? He let out a short bark of near hysterical laughter before getting back up to his feet and moving back towards Kei'serse as fast as his shaking legs would let him. If Sparda was back, then he was most likely the Sparda family patriarch too. If that was true then it was time to find a way to get in touch with him.

*****

Sparda brushed a stray lock of hair out of Vergil’s face. Vergil was curled up in a ball on his father’s bed, sobbing into a pillow, not really seeming to hear his father’s voice whispering soothing words. Sparda knew why his elder son was reacting in the way he was, and he knew that once the boy’s memories were unblocked, his reaction would become even worse. He knew all that Vergil done, under Luxian’s influence and later, under Mundus’, but he had been unable to feel remorse for his actions. With the missing portion of his soul returned to him, the weight of what he had done would hit him hard. The knowledge that he had done it a large part of it willingly would only make it worse for him.

Sparda had often wondered during his imprisonment if it had all been worth the risk. Not to himself, no, he acknowledged that he had done what he had to all those centuries ago, but had the risk to his wife and children been worth it? Had the promise of having a family that wouldn’t look at him in horror over what he was been worth the risk to their lives and their happiness? Eva was murdered, Vergil was kidnapped and tortured, and Dante was pushed into filling his father’s shoes. Had those fifteen years been worth it?

He was so deep in his thoughts that he was startled when he felt Vergil crawling into his lap, something that he had not done in fifty two years, since he was nine years old. He wrapped his arms around Vergil and kissed him on the top of his head. He heard the door open behind him and felt Dante come into the room. A few seconds later, Dante’s arms came around his neck and shoulders, hugging him from behind. Dante laid his cheek on his father’ head.

“I love you, Dad.” he said quietly just as Vergil nestled his head against Sparda’s chest.

Sparda smiled.

“It was worth it, Dad.” Dante said “Don’t ever think otherwise.” Vergil nodded in agreement.

Well, Sparda thought, who could argue with that?

*****

Rithas Bolverk sat brooding in his throne, absently polishing his spear. He had done that alot in the past several years, ever since the death of his father, Bolverk Vimors Bolverk, at the hands of Dante Sparda. He had been enraged at his father’s death, true, but that anger had had ample time to cool down in the ensuing years, and his analytical mind had began to work on the problem.

The problem in question had been why his father had been there to face the half breed Sparda to begin with. The goings on on Dumary Island had been the work of Argosax, not Mundus, so the former Bolverk patriarch had no business being there. Yet, he had gone right on out, determined to carry his grudge over Sparda’s actions two thousand years ago over onto his son. And he had lost. Setting his spear aside, Rithas leaned back in his chair, his thoughts jumping to the next question. Why had his father lost?

The Bolverks were the only demon family that possessed no magic, yet they more than made up for that with their brute strength and endurance. No half breed should have been able to defeat him, especially since Sparda himself had been unable to during the rebellion. Something was very wrong with this picture...

Footsteps coming close to the throne room doors made him banish his thoughts and pick up his spear again. He was the patriarch, but he would hold the position only as long as he could fight for it. Without the patriarchal magic, which kept the other demon families from fighting each other over it, the Bolverks gained and lost patriarchs by blood and bone. While there was a tentative line of succession in place, passing from father to son like the other families, the line remained in control only if they were strong enough to do so. A patriarch perceived as weak would be slaughtered in a heartbeat.

The doors creaked open, letting in light from the outer hall, and a familiar figure stepped in. Rithas relaxed some, but didn’t let loose his spear as his older brother approached the throne. As soon as the news of their father’s defeat reached their ears, the two had fought viciously over the patriarchal position, and it ended with the elder brother lying bedridden for days while his grievous injuries healed themselves. While they had never been close growing up, there was a definite level of distrust between them now. On more than one occasion Rithas had been ambushed by his brother in failed attempts to wrest the patriarchy from him.

“What do you want, Elsec?” Rithas said tiredly. He did not particularly enjoy his brother’s company, and he had no desire to deal with him now.

“Can I not simply ask my brother how he is doing without facing an inquisition?” Elsec asked “Or have things deteriorated to that point between us?”

“It could have something to do with your various attempts to kill me over the years. Now, what do you want?”

“I have to come to ask if you have heard anything about the Valters family?”

Rithas’ face darkened; there was a several thousand year old rivalry between the Bolverk and Valters families, and to mention one in the other’s house was to invite trouble.

“Why have you brought them up?” he growled dangerously.

“Rumor has it that Nestor Valters seceded from the Emperor.” Elsec said casually.

Only years of conditioning as the surviving patriarch kept Rithas’ jaw from falling open.

“Does this rumor say why?” he demanded.

“Something to do with Mundus ordering them to attack Lar’cincel and defeat and imprison the combined Sarcesti and Sparda families within.” Rithas managed a grim smile.

“I imagine that Nestor was not happy with that order?”

Elsec grinned, showing a row of sharp canines - he preferred to keep himself part way between his demon and human form. “No, he supposedly told Mundus to, quote ‘Go to hell.’”

Rithas couldn’t help it; he threw his head back and laughed. Seeing that his brother was a bit occupied, Elsec decided to take advantage of it. Summoning his own spear, he lunged towards his brother - only to find his attack blocked by the younger demon's Ensouled. Rithas smirked down at his brother.

“Nice try.” he said in a voice of false sweetness, then he kicked Elsec away from the throne.

“Get out!” Rithas snarled, his voice significantly colder. He watched as Elsec scrambled back on his ass out of the room, getting to his feet and shutting the doors as he went. Once he was gone, Rithas relaxed back into his chair, thinking that something big was getting ready to happen in the Underworld. He didn't need magic to read the signs; the reappearance of Sparda Achida Sparda was only the most recent one. The return of the only demon to ever stand up to the imperial family in a battle and survive was just one more event in a long list that pointed to the approach of something world shattering.

Rithas smiled grimly; perhaps it was time to ignore the feud and reach out to Nestor Valters.

Chapter 12 -- Chapter 14
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