Archive of Our Own

“Yeah,” Angelina said, rolling her eyes, “because I’m just going to let her take my pencil and get away with. I said she could borrow it, not have it! It’s one of the good pencils, too.”

Nero nodded in agreement, ignoring the look Kyrie shot him. “No, I get it.”

“ Thank you!” Angie said and turned to glare at Kyle. “See? I told you he’d get it.”

“I don’t think-”

Whatever Kyle had been about to say was cut off by an overwhelming flare of demonic energy. Nero was on his feet before he realized he was moving, his chair falling to the ground with a clatter. It wasn’t his father or uncle, and Trish was sharper, and Lucia almost void-like in her energy, and this was none of that. 

It was like, if someone had taken a molotov and lobbed it into a gas leak. Sudden, all encompassing, and so overwhelming that Nero had to take a second to process.

He called on Ollia, her ears flicking this way and that as he tried searching on his own. He looked around the room, movements jerky and uncertain.

Something was coming to Fortuna. It was distant, to some extent, but it was coming to Fortuna. Coming to his home, and his family. He had to do something. He had to make sure everyone came out of this safe. Did they even have the money to do repairs to the house if he failed? Would they even be able to keep the foster kids? Why hadn’t Nero already adopted Angie, Kyle, Carlo, and Missy? 

No, focus. There was a demon coming. He needed to keep his family safe. Where was the safest place in the house? They didn’t have a basement and it was a wood and brick house. It wasn’t safe from pretty much anything. There was nowhere to hide. There was nothing that any of them could -

No, focus. Nero wasn’t as strong as his father or uncle, but he was still strong. He had survived Hell alone. He had taken down demon lords, hell, he was a demon lord himself. The prince of Hell. He could do this. He had to. If he didn’t -

Focus! Think, Nero, think! Where was safe? What could he do? What would he tell Kyrie? This wasn’t the time to panic. He needed to make a decision and make it now. He couldn’t afford mistakes. 

Above us, Ollia said, above and from the direction of the HQ.

If this was the Order fucking with them again, Nero was going to take it down himself again. With his own bare hands this time and maybe his demon form just to let them know he meant business. How dare they put -

Focus! From above? That meant it could crash down into the house, take out the neighbors’ houses - The van, the van was safe.

“Get the kids into the van,” Nero said, interrupting whatever was going on around him, “get lost. Use the speakerphone to warn the neighbors.”

“What’s going on?” Kyrie asked.

“ Follow me, kiddos!” Nico said at the same time, grabbed Missy on one hip and Carlo on the other. Julio – wonderful, perfect, helpful Julio – grabbed his remaining siblings’ hands and dragged them after Nico.

“Demon attack,” Nero dismissed Ollia and pulled Kyrie along towards the garage.

“Isn’t it safer to stay?” Kyrie asked.

“No,” Nero said, “it’s skybound, coming from the old Order HQ. The neighbors -”

“We’ll get them,” Kyrie said, pulling him down and stopping just long enough to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Come home to me.” 

Nero turned and kissed her on the lips. “I will. You come home to me, too. Stay safe.”

Kyrie nodded and strode forward, authority settling around her shoulders like one of her many shawls. Nero ducked into the garage, catching the belt of arms Nico tossed at him. They didn’t need any more communication than that, though Nico nodded to him.

Nero snatched up his weapons, handed his unnamed pistol to Kyrie, and opened the garage door as Nico secured the kids. The van trundled out, Nico’s voice ringing through the air. Nero jogged to the end of the street, scanning the skies. He could see it. 

It was huge.  Maybe not as large as that ugly fucking toad he found during the Savior Incident and definitely not as big as the Savior itself, but huge. 

Nero summoned a spectral arm, the other settling at his shoulder, and scratched a line in the asphalt of the road. It would not get past this line. Nero didn’t know how he would ensure that, but he wouldn’t allow it to pass. He walked back to the middle of the street, ignoring shouting neighbors and the hullabaloo that panic brought with it. 

“Get behind the line!” Kyrie said into the loudspeaker, “and as many of you that can take shelter behind the van, do it! No pushing or shoving, please! Trust Nero, he’ll handle the demon. All we need to do is keep ourselves and each other safe.” 

It’d be safer if they left entirely, but that wasn’t an option. Not for this many people. Not with such little time. Nero wasn’t strong enough to - 

No, not the time. Focus. What would Dante do? What would Vergil do?

They would win, of course, but that didn’t help Nero. It didn’t stave off the despair in his chest. This demon was several orders of magnitude stronger than Nero was used to. Stronger than either of his own devil arms. Maybe on par with Urizen? Maybe not? After a point, Nero struggled to tell how strong demons were. 

What about Patty? Lucia? Trish and Lady? Nina? What would they do? Struggle. Fight. Demand a payment. None of that was helping Nero right now and the devil was getting closer.

What had worked for Nero in the past? Well, it helped that he had something to protect.

Nero turned to check – his family and all his neighbors were behind the line. There were people still hurrying to it from the other streets; he recognized Mr. Rodriguez who lived in the house behind Kyrie’s and Nonna Maria from two streets down, who brought candy for the kids in the orphanage and always had two for Nero.

They upped the stakes. They made the despair in his chest shift to make way for anger. Anger was safe. Anger would get him through this, the way it got him through everything. 

What else helped? His devil form? Nero felt for the heart of his power. The years of practice had accustomed him to it, to the feel of it.

It was strange, because he was so different from the other devils he knew. C redo and Agnus had shifted with blunt force energy; he hadn’t realized the gracelessness of the change until much later. Gilver, perched eternally on Patty’s finger, was much the same, though in darker colors rather than light.

Trish changed with the strength of a lightning strike. You could smell ozone on the air and could almost feel the static-y shock just standing near her. Instinctively, Nero knew not to fuck with her.

Lucia shifted quietly, like a little blip on the radar. She was a powerful demon, but everything about her was made for stealth – you didn’t notice Lucia unless she wanted you to notice her.

Vergil changed with a crackle of energy, the breaking of chains, and burned in the air with blue hot flame. He could modulate exactly how much energy he gave off, like Lucia, but more often than not he followed the Trish school of don’t-fuck-with-me.

Dante was much the same, but he didn’t particularly care for modulation. He stabbed himself, he glowed red, and he exploded his way through whatever those chains he and Vergil shared were. The only precaution he took was to make sure the brunt of his power was focused on his enemy and not his allies.

Nero was not like that at all. His own demon came through in a ripple of energy. There was no shifting of shadows, no breaking chains, no lightning strike. It was like those videos of watching someone getting doused in cold water by their friends. Just a sudden terrifying wash of energy and the things around him got thrown ten feet and that was that. Simple and practical. 

Nero triggered now, spread his wings behind him. He could manifest them to be pretty big; his hand had been Savior sized when he finally broke the damn thing. Was it enough?

That demon was flying towards him, a roar echoing through the skies. It was going to hit like a bomb. Were Nero’s wings enough of a shield? 

Nero was a small demon, all things considered. He spread his wings anyway and extended his claws to the sides and screamed, two toned and horrible, the challenge bouncing off the walls of the surrounding houses. The neighbors behind him fell silent. 

The demon in the air adjusted its angle to look at him. It was still relatively far, but not so far that the fighting couldn’t begin at a moment's notice. It roared a response; it used base Abyssal, and it told Nero that today, he would die. The crown prince of Sparda would not live to see the morning. 

Nero scoffed, thumbed his nose, reached for the words his father had been drilling into his head for months. 

“Now I know you didn’t just try to threaten me on my own turf,” Nero yelled, words sharp on his tongue and probably painful for the humans behind him to hear. “Though I figure you’re too stupid to know why it’s a bad idea!” 

It began to glow. Nero understood what was happening a second before the attack came.

Nero reached for the exceed engine that sat in his soul. Not that he knew how else to describe it. It was in him, and it was locked at the second level, which was his actual devil trigger. There were forms above it. Nero knew there had to be. He had to be stronger than this.

For his people. For his home. For his children. 

For Nico. For Kyrie.

He imagined twisting the handle, felt the power in him rise and hit a blast door. Nero needed it. He needed that power. 

He crashed into that blast door like seven hundred thousand gallons of water falling fifty-four meters every second, shattered the blast door with an impact he felt wash over his entire fucking body, and everything in him screamed.

A beam of light crashed into Nero and he bit his tongue on a cry as he kept it from burning through him, healing as fast as the beam did damage.  He didn’t have the time to process the change. Whatever it was, whatever he did to himself, it would have to come later.

When the beam dropped, the demon was almost to him.

Nero caught the demon attack, talons sinking into the floor beneath him. He bellowed in its face, steam rising up around him. His voice was strange; deeper and raspier than it had any right to be, a bass sound that vibrated the windows in their panes as it rumbled through Nero’s chest.

The demon looked bigger up close, long limbed and loose jointed. It was covered in holes, which all fired independently into Nero’s side and wings.

The pain was over quick, but each wound burned – poison bullets, maybe? This demon was dangerous. It could probably kill Nero, if his body couldn’t push out the bullets, if the poison set in for good. Nero had fought both his blood family members, though, and knew them to be far more terrifying. 

Sporus came unbidden to replace his hand. He cracked it, the vines shooting out to wrap around the demon and plug as many holes as possible, acid shooting everywhere. 

A walking gun, was it? Like Lady-Artemis, but infinitely less well made. The demon tried to respond, but Nero was on it again, wings flaring and glowing behind him.

He didn’t know how to move, like this. He was too big. But his size was intimidating the other demon. It kept flinching away. 

Nero caught sight of a few bigger holes, maybe warhead sized, and grabbed them. The thing tried to twist away but Nero dug in claws the length of windshield wipers and tore them open. Blood sprayed into the street, poured down the storm drains.

He reached for everything he could, did as much damage as he could. He lost a claw in the process, but that was fine.

This thing tried to come for Nero’s home. For his family. 

Two impacts, alarming but not currently hostile, behind Nero. He ignored it and the influx of shouting. He’d deal with that later.

The demon grappled him, but its arms were weak and shitty. Probably the joints. The recoil of its own attacks made it sturdy, but not against a devil whose every inch was optimized for brawling. Nero heaved it off the ground and cracked the asphalt slamming it back down again.

It shifted into a newer, bigger form, with more guns. Fucking fine. Nero drew back a couple steps, summoned blades circling around him, a mirror of his father’s. 

“Damn,” Nero said, voice two toned and dangerous, firing off the swords and watching the demon tank the hits, its injuries glowing gold, “I thought this was going to be a harder fight. Guess I overestimated you, huh?”

It was glowing more, now? Nero frowned (he didn’t think it reached his face, he couldn’t really feel his face muscles, though his hair moved and a tail lashed behind him). 

Wait a minute, hellbats glowed like that.

Nero blurred into movement, drawing Red Queen. She was different in his hand, larger and heavier, but Nero didn’t have the time to deal with that. He hurtled forward, the windows around him shattering at the displaced air. He buried Red Queen into the demon and wrenched the wound open, pressure dispelling into the air smelling like gas as the thing screamed.

Nero dug his hands deeper, two winghands joining in on the action as he clawed it inside out. Its guts spilled over the floor and Nero separated what he assumed was its gas tank, a liquid filled organ that was soft to the touch and maybe even too delicate. He couldn’t toss it away, so he gave it to a wing to hold far above the ground, as far up as he could reach. 

The demon sunk claws into Nero’s flank, even though its organs spilled over the street. Nero bit back a shout of pain as it clawed straight to the bone, shattering it with an array of bullets. Nero shifted his weight and tried to find a heart.

He found three. He grabbed each with an extra hand – why did he have so many – and tore them free, and it still wasn’t dead, so he cracked its head between his thighs like a watermelon and ripped out its brain. And then, when Nero was dripping with gore, did it finally fall still. 

Overwhelming victory, Nero thought, as it dissolved, turning into a singular gun. He shifted down to human, though he kept one wing high in the air to hold the fuel filled organ, and picked it up. He brought it up, peered through the scope. A sniper rifle.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Nero murmured. He and Nico were gonna get a kick out of this. He tilted it up and fired off into the sky, grinning at its silence and the power behind the shot. The rifle whispered its name in his ear as he lowered it. 

He turned back to find all his kids staring at him from inside the car. Kyrie was half hanging out of the door, a few small cuts on her face from the shattered windows of the van, and Nico stood just behind her with wide eyes. 

Nero’s neighbors were staring as well, mostly unhurt, all of them alarmed. No one made a sound.

The street was a little fucked, but true to his intent, nothing had made it past the line Nero had drawn. In fact, the destruction had stopped mere inches from it. Lucky.

And just beyond the line stood Vergil and Dante, mirroring each other’s pose, hips cocked and arms crossed. Smiling, both of them, though Vergil’s was more of a smirk and Dante’s more of a shit-eating grin . Far above the ground, the organ Nero saved exploded, distant enough that all he felt was a slight wave of warmth.

🔫🔫🔫

On the video, Nero strode down the street, half bent over with his wings extended, screaming like an animal. The sound quality was kinda fucked, between the sound of the kids’ chatter and Kyrie’s finger probably covering the microphone, but the video picked up enough. Blown up on the thankfully only slightly messed up TV in the Eleison home, Nero cared more for the visual details. He remembered what it sounded like.

Another shout, and then in a flare of flowing blue light, Nero was so big that the phone couldn’t record all of him. 

The attack that Nero blocked lit him up – Nico paused the video so they all could stare for a moment.

Six massive semi-transparent wings spread out from Nero, locked together to form a thick shield that caught and absorbed the attack. They burned and bubbled at the center-point of the beam, but held firm. On the other side of the wall of wings was a tail, long and thin and armored with the same spectral energy that made up Nero’s many wings, paused half way thru a sharp, sudden movement – with the frame frozen, Nero could see that it was actually moving to block a chunk of concrete flying for the side of Nero’s head. 

Nico hit play and video continued – she paused now and again so Nero could see what exactly he had done and looked like – the muzzle, lined with jagged teeth, so unlike his family’s concave faces; the armor that phased in and out of reality, solidifying only to block blows but otherwise hovered around him, transparent and almost nonexistent; the horns that curled all the way around his head; the miles of muscles that would ensure that Nero could pick up and throw anything that he needed to. 

“I like it,” Dante decided, “it’s very you.” 

“Thanks,” Nero said quietly. 

“Can you turn into it again?” Nico asked, practically vibrating with repressed need. “I need a closer look!” 

“Not tonight,” Kyrie said, from where she was curled up against Nero’s side. His new rifle was laid out on both of their laps. The kids were all already put to bed, there were tarps taped up over everyone’s broken windows, and somehow Nero had managed to miss the houses on the street, so no one was staying over due to structural damage complaints. 

“Why the fuck are you two here, anyway?” Nero asked his father and uncle. 

“Nico called and said it was an emergency,” Dante explained, “but it looks like you had it handled.”

Nero didn’t want to know how they had made it over so fast. He hoped it was something relatively normal like their demon forms letting them travel faster than usual and not something stupid and crazy like they used the Yamato to cut a hole in the fabric of reality that allowed them to teleport less than 50 meters from Nero’s home.

“I didn’t think you’d be able to handle it,” Nico explained without being prompted, “I mean, you’ve never fought anything like that before! The sensors and shit were going crazy. I know we normally just go off your gut instinct, but I thought it might be bad so I turned it all on again, and-”

“No, I didn’t think I’d get it either,” Nero interrupted, “good call.”

“What is its name?” His father asked.

“Doryphoros,” Nero said and pat the rifle. 

Vergil stood from the armchair he had commandeered. He walked across the room, somehow grabbing the attention of everyone in it, and lifted the gun to inspect it. “I imagine Nico has already looked over it?” 

“ Sure have,” Nico said cheerfully, “it’s a good gun. Nero and I were thinking we can probably fuck with it so that it can shoot multiple bullets at once, and it replenishes its own bullets. Its native bullets can hone in on the target, but if you add Nero’s energy, then he can time the explosions or keep one hanging in air. Probably more, but we’re figuring it out. I was honestly wondering if we could save the gas organ to add to Red Queen, but it exploded.”

“I doubt that will be necessary,” Vergil said, bringing the gun to Dante, who looked it over with the lazy but practiced motions of someone who’d handled more guns than Nero had even seen with his own eyes. “I believe the Red Queen has changed to accommodate Nero.”

They all looked at him.

“You didn’t say anything,” Nico said.

“She’s in that little pocket dimension where the devil arms go,” Nero said, a little sheepishly, “not sure how she got there, but. . .”

“That implies she has devil energy of her own, now,” Nico gasped. She hurried over and threw herself onto the couch on Nero’s other side. “Show me.” 

Nero summoned Red Queen. 

She was heavier – it took Nero a second to realize that was because he could handle a heavier blade. He didn’t think Nico would be able to lift it now, so he kept a hold of it. 

The exceed engine Nero had worked so hard to upgrade was changed now. There was no propulsion system, but it burned with what Nero instinctively recognized as his own energy. If he revved it, he was sure it would siphon power from him to fill an exceed slot. Instead of the one track for the fire to escape and line the blade, there was none. The blade itself begged for customization; somehow he knew she hadn’t decorated herself because she was waiting for him to do it. 

“How’s it supposed to work now?” Nico asked quietly, reaching out to touch the blade. “I mean, even I can feel that it’s got demonic power now, but all the wiring is gone. You spent hours on that, Nero.”

“Yeah.”

“Try her out,” Vergil ordered. 

Nero sighed a little and kissed Kyrie’s cheek. He heaved himself off the couch, all his limbs aching and moved to the open part of the living room that was normally filled with laughing children. He planted the tip and revved once, barely able to feel the drain as the Red Queen took her due from him. 

He swung, his own energy sweeping along the blade and making it white hot to the touch. Dante was closest; he held still even with the tip of the sword less than a centimeter away, grin growing wider. Nico whooped, jumping to her feet.

“Holy shit!” She yelled. Nero laughed at her, some of the tension he didn’t realize he was holding on to easing at how excited she was. “Wait, is that your energy?!”

“Sure is,” Nero said, “though it’ll be a bitch to deal with during a long battle.” 

“First the Yamato,” Dante said, “now this? Maybe you should be a devil arm crafter, and not Nico.” 

“Hey,” Nico whined, “I’m better at this shit than jerkass!”

“Maybe if I could figure out how I did it,” Nero said, looking down at Red Queen. He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t have to give it a gaudy name like the Devil Sword Nero, or something, right?”

“Well, it does seem to run in the family,” Dante said, drawing his sword just long enough to earn a glare from Kyrie before dismissing it again.

“ Red Queen should be fine,” Vergil said, “so long as she doesn’t mind the name.”

“Do you mind?” Nero asked the blade, feeling a little silly.

Swords couldn’t talk, not if they hadn’t been devils first. After all these years, Nero had just about convinced himself that those words he heard when he first got his devil bringer were either the words of his demonic self or the words of Vergil himself – definitely not the Yamato, calling to him from across the island. 

Red Queen, however, answered him in what had to be the negative, because it was mainly a highlight reel of their best moments together – she didn’t want a new name.

“Alright,” Nero said, looking up at his father with wide eyes, “Red Queen it is, I guess.” 

“You think Blue Rose is gonna turn sentient too?” Nico asked. “What about your pistol?”

“The Devil Gun Nero,” Dante said thoughtfully.

“Fuck you, first of all,” Nero said, pointing his sword at Dante, “and second of all, I don’t know? Blue Rose does use my energy or whatever to fire the bullets.” 

“ And the bullets themselves are devilish, too,” Nico added.

“Right,” Nero said, “so it’s not like it couldn’t happen, if Red Queen’s already turned. I guess it would depend on intent or circumstances or whatever, because Dante’s had his guns forever and they’re still cold hard steel. Trish, too, right?”

“So maybe it’s the power up?” Nico said. “You and Dante both powered up and got a devil sword out of it, so maybe it’s that?”

“I don’t think my old trigger counts as a power up, though,” Nero said, “because my devil blood was already awake. It woke up when Kyrie and the kids from the orphanage were attacked and I got hurt trying to protect them. I mean, the Yamato was a little different.”

“How did that even happen?” Dante asked. “You never explained.”

Nero shrugged. “Agnus pinned me to the wall with a couple angelos.”

“Fucker,” Nico said and turned her head to spit on the tiles in disgust.

“And I felt something calling to me,” Nero continued, “and when I answered, the Yamato was in my hand, and I triggered. Or she helped me trigger.” Something like that. Nero was a little delirious from the pain and despair. 

“She called to you?” Vergil said. He tilted his head just a little, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah?” Nero said. “Not with words, obviously, but she was just hanging there, humming the whole time I was there. And then, it got stronger, and I was like fuck it, y’know? She called, I answered, she came to me.” 

Vergil looked down at the Yamato in his hand, thumbing free the blade from its sheath. “I see.” 

“Three times is a pattern, though,” Nico said, “you twice, Dante once. All three was when you unleashed a lot of demonic power for the first time.” 

“Four times,” Vergil said, “the Force Edge became the Sparda after my death at Dante’s hands.” 

There was a beat.

“So he really did kill you,” Nero said quietly. 

Vergil shrugged a shoulder. 

“It was you getting stabbed and then immediately combining the amulets,” Dante elaborated, “I think that’s what did it.” 

“Death is a release of energy,” Nico said with a nod, “Nero, if I kill you, will you upgrade Blue Rose?”

“Wanna try?” Nero asked, kinda excited despite himself.

“If you’re going to die, you’re not doing it in my house,” Kyrie said, though she didn’t actually sound all that pissed. Just a little tired, really. “Not again.”

“No, no, of course not,” Nico said. 

“Wouldn’t’ve getting my arm torn off have done something, though?” Nero said now that he was reminded of that whole mess. He ignored how tense the question made Vergil. “I wasn’t holding any of them, but all my weapons were right there. It’s not like I’ve got a lock on them.”

“ That’s a good point,” Nico said, deflating. “Maybe you have to be holding them?” 

“But Blue Rose has been on me the whole time?” Nero said. “Wouldn’t it have upgraded with Red Queen?” He tugged out the gun to check, but no, there was no renegade demon energy coming from it. 

Nico groaned and buried her head in her hands. “Nero, give me Ollia. I’m gonna snap her in half so you can test it out.” 

Absolutely not, Ollia said, out loud in the open for everyone to hear. Kyrie and Nico jumped, but Vergil and Dante didn’t react at all. 

“Sorry, Nico,” Nero said, “that’s a no-go.” 

“I’ve got a couple broken or low energy weapons,” Dante said thoughtfully, “next time you’re on the mainland, you should test it out.” 

“Really?!” Nico lightened up immediately. She scrabbled between the couch cushions, finding a pen and a crushed spiral notebook. Nero grinned at her as she flipped to a new page, pen flying across the page as she started summarizing what she knew. Next would be brainstorming, and the whole house would fill with sticky notes and Nico’s increasingly incoherent babbling. 

“Sure, kid,” Dante said, “I look forward to it. You usually produce pretty good shit.” 

“Aw, thanks Dante,” Nico said, looking at him with actual stars in her eyes. 

Vergil and Nero rolled their eyes simultaneously.

--

The next day was hectic. 

Everyone and their mother wanted to know what the fuck happened, what the fuck was being done about it, and what the fuck were they supposed to do now. 

Nero stayed clear for the most part, leaving the socializing and instructing to Kyrie. This was her job anyway. Nero had to help the construction crews with building because his stunt last night meant the entirety of Fortuna now knew that he could lift things many times his size without issue – and more importantly, that if something was too heavy, somehow, then he would just simply grow another size or two and be able to lift it just fine. 

At least he had more hands now. The six wings were a great help for everyone involved; essentially they were being used as portable tables.

In summary, construction on the shattered street was going well. 

And at the end of the day, Nero opened the door to the smiling face of Nonna Maria.

“Nero,” she croaked. Nero knelt on the floor so she didn’t have to crane back her neck, taking the food she carried in one semi transparent blue winghand and grinning as she cupped his cheeks. “Look at you, so handsome.”

“Nonna, you tell me every time,” Nero said, laughing.

“ It’s because you are,” Nonna said, “I remember when you were this small,” she measured out a length of her arm – it changed each time, Nero had noticed, so he just nodded, “what a loudass baby you were! Now you’re still so loud, I can hear you from my house.” 

“Sorry, Nonna, I’ll try to keep it down,” Nero said, “you wanna come in?”

“Yes, yes,” Nonna Maria said and stepped in without fuss. “Damn, what a house. It’s beautiful, I always thank God above that those Order assholes didn’t smash it. By his grace and blessing you and your babies have somewhere to stay. Oh!” 

She came up short in the living room, where Nero’s entire massive family (and to think, Nero the orphan had a massive fucking family) had gathered. Nonna Maria hadn’t seen Kyrie, like Nero assumed, but instead was looking at Vergil. 

Vergil, who looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Oh, love, how are you?!” Nonna Maria said, walking to him and beaming. “How long it’s been!”

“. . . you’re alive,” Vergil said after a beat. 

“Yes, of course I am,” Nonna Maria said, “come down here, let me see you.” Nero’s papa sank to his knees, looking vaguely panicked. Which was objectively hilarious because Nonna was shorter than him even with him kneeling and she was old as balls anyway. “You’ve grown into your height, my love. Look at that face! You were nothing to sneer at as a child, of course, but this suits you. Old age comes for us all, but it has been good to you.” She took his face in her wrinkly little hands, rubbing his cheekbones with her thumbs.

“What is happening,” Vergil said, too flat to be a question, glancing at Nero, “why do you know her.” 

“Well, not too long after your day at my little shop,” Nonna explained, “I decided to go to the orphanage. It is a part of my religion to help the needy, of course it is, not like these Fortunans. The Order wouldn’t know charity if it bit them in the ass. So I go to the orphanage. And who is it, screaming at the top of his little lungs, putting every nun through their paces?”

Nero laughed awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“You took care of my son,” Vergil said, the dots connecting quickly.

“Of course,” Nonna said, “I was already old then and dried out. I couldn’t wet nurse him, but I could hold the bottle. His crying didn’t bother me like it bothered the nuns, so they stuck me in the nursery alongside him. You have a darling boy, my love. As soon as I saw him, I knew it had be yours.”

“Just for buying clothes from you,” Vergil said quietly, “just the once.”

“ I know people,” Nonna said, patting one of his cheeks, “and I knew you. Family should help family, hmm? Come, come, sit with me, let me tell you all the years you missed.”

There was no blame or accusation in her voice as she said this. Nero thought that might be why his papa followed her unquestioningly to the couch. 

Vergil didn’t look away from her as she began to talk and talk, spilling years and years of Nero’s life to a man who may not have gotten to know about them otherwise. It wasn’t like Nero could remember much before he was like seven. Six? His memories started with his introduction to the Eleison family house and to the prayer room within it. And then, months later, going back to the orphanage with a sobbing Kyrie in tow. 

Still, it was surreal to see Nonna Maria, who had always doted on him, call his papa family and spill her guts to him. She was the one who taught Nero how to get back up when he was beaten and how to be gentle with others and how to cuss – lessons Credo and Kyrie and the other knights later reinforced. She was the first to tell him that the Savior was not the only god to exist. She was the first to tell him that it was ok not to worship him. To not beg like a dog. 

And now she sat on Nero’s couch with Nero’s father and told him in as bright a voice as her old vocal cords could get about all of Nero’s childhood fuck ups. The highlights, too, but she gave him the whole picture.

Nero retreated to Kyrie and Nico’s side. “Is this weird to anyone else?”

“It’s weird to me,” Kyrie said, nodding.

“Didn’t know Ms. Maria knew your old man,” Nico said. 

“Neither did I,” Nero said.

“I’ll be honest,” Dante said, appearing next to them and making them jump, “I think I need to introduce Verge to more old ladies. Look at him. I’ve never seen him so well behaved in his life.”

They all took a moment to watch Vergil, who was nodding along to Nonna explaining the intricacies of Nero’s childhood. The kids gravitated over to her as well, like they always did, and she passed out candies from her purse as she continued to talk. She even gave some to Vergil – four of them, which he took slowly and inspected before unwrapping one and popping it in his mouth.

“Oh, hell no,” Dante said, grinning and heading over, “how come you get chocolates, Verge? Mom taught us to share!”

“They’re my candies,” Vergil answered immediately with a scowl.

“Now, now,” Nonna said before it could escalate and not only gave Dante five chocolates, but gave Vergil an extra one as well. 

“This might as well happen,” Nero decided, wrapping an arm around his girlfriend’s waist and best friend’s shoulders. “Fuck it. If no one’s burning down the house. . .”

“Then it’s good enough for me,” Nico and Kyrie finished, shooting each other a surprised look across Nero’s chest before leaning in to kiss each other.