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A Devil's Heart	By : PerireAnimus Category: +A through F > Devil May Cry Views: 4438 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Devil May Cry game series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
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- 5
I Give Thanks: Again I thank Tora-Katana and Naiya for all your help as my betas. I must say this chapter is my best work yet out of all the chapters thus far! I give you all my absolute allegiance and send many heart felt blessing of adoration~
Author’s Note: Due to my college education my fanfic update to ‘A Devil’s Heart’ will be delayed most indefinitely. As I haven’t updated in awhile now and readers are probably wondering why it is taking so long is mostly for this reason. If you go back to later chapters I have finally found betas (which I have mentioned above), to help me go over my work which will also add to the delay of my future updates since I have three betas go over it with me. And if you do decide to read the other chapters you will see I have improved and tweaked it as this chapter will be much easily read and understood I hope. I know I have trouble with grammar and punctuations as well as putting together sentences to be understandable.
You should take into consideration that English is not my native language and I had to teach myself proper English besides some other outside help. So far many have complimented that I do better in the English language than most.
Now without further adieu I hope you enjoy the fourth chapter and the fic itself~ :3
A Devils Heart

IV
A Pact with The Devil
   A dark, lifeless place lies within the dreadful royal room of The Devil. The dimmed light from the blood-black candles surrounded the immense, dreary yet magnificent throne room. Thousands of candles and several dull, gold chandeliers above provided the only light that revealed a young, tall and slender man with a death-like appearance standing in the middle of the room; brooding amongst growling devils and hissing demons. The wails of the damned could be heard in the background but not seen, locked away in an eternal damnation. The man stood alone with the Devil before him that was sitting on an elegant throne made of gold bones and other precious metals with rubies, diamonds, black sapphires and other precious and semi-precious stones that glimmered in the flickering light of the candles.
   Lucifer silently scrutinized the wretched white haired creature before him before he spoke in a tone laced with death, “Vergil… Son of Sparda.“
   Vergil just stood there quietly, his ice blue eyes staring down at the Devil in front of him, veiled by the bitter gloom as the Prince of Darkness’ shining eyes pierced through Vergil’s soul from the shadows.
   Vergil wore a brilliant, peacock blue, satin long coat in shades of deep blue that shimmered light blue when the light would hit it. The collar of his coat lifted up to cover his neck and opened at the front to reveal a black hard leather vest over his broad chest and a black satin scarf which tied about his neck, neatly tucked. Silver buttons aligned the long coat, starting at his collarbone downwards to where it ended at his thighs. The length of the coat went down to his ankles, with a decorative gold and bronze floral silk lining the insides of it. Gold colored thread trimmed the edges of the opening of his jacket and on the sides of the sleeves, with five silver buttons lining the sides of both of his jacket sleeves. There was a strange silver thread design that looked almost like a spiked snake with no eyes at the rim opening of the right side of his coat, starting from the bottom right and trailing up around the back of his neck, stopping at the upper left side of his chest, near his shoulders. He wore black, snakeskin pants that were tight, but still loose enough around his thighs and legs. Knee high brown colored boots wrapped comfortably around his muscular legs and double buckled below his knees, which were covered by leather flaps baring a burned design. He wore light-tan, open-fingered leather gloves over the pale flesh of his powerful hands, hands that could easily kill any one who stood in his way--unless the enemy was immortal, like the ones surrounding him.
   Vergil looked dull and filthy from the cruelty in the bowels of Hell, yet he still held an aristocratic beauty of his own. His usual nice attire didn’t cover his cold, silent demeanor of emotionless indifference, but the corruption of the Underworld weighed him down and it soiled his very being. The pandemonium would drive any man mad, and there were a few times he lost himself to insanity. Almost every time it had been because he had disrespected the Devil and been imprisoned in an area called “The Pit of Insanity”, a small pulsing red room, as if it were the inside of a heart. Every time Vergil had been imprisoned he was always faced with the same recurring act: a sickening display of Dante receiving their fathers devil power, and using it towards him and beating him, slowly torturing him and ripping him apart! The torment and mockery pushed Vergil over the edge but his strong will and the thought of revenge against his brother would snap him back into reality and leave him enough sanity to get through this nightmare of an inferno. Anger was what got him through it--enough to fight his way through endlessly, his fatigue clearly shown in his appearance. When he refused the Devil’s summoning, it brought forth an overwhelming number of demons to force him to comply. It was straining and left him feeling exhausted, though he tried to hide it. Now he stood alone in his failure, part of his pride wounded as he wondered what the Dark Lord of Hades wanted of him; to torture him, as many others had done? He would not hesitate to fight back with all the wrath that burned through his very being, despite being outnumbered, he would then, at least, get to relish in the notion of punching the monster he so despised.
   “…You called for me… What do you want?” Vergil quietly said in a chilling tone, as if the words were ice through tightened teeth.
   There was such deathly silence that Vergil could hear his own heart beat from his chest and wondered if the Fallen could hear it too. A hiss in reply came from the Cimmerian throne seat where his master sat. The white haired man stubbornly stood silently, waiting patiently for an answer and kept his defiant demeanor, as to show no weakness to the creature he loathed.
   Breaking the silence the monster spoke in seething arrogance, “I have an important task that needs to be attended to. I wonder if you are the one I need to fulfill my request and can do successfully the task I wish of thee.” He casually gestured, which Vergil could faintly see, and a pair of demons walked out of the darkness and past Vergil, towards the Pit of Insanity. The Devil enjoyed listening to the screams of those in the Pit, especially Vergils, which he blatantly took great joy in. “I sent a group to handle this task last night but there was… interference.”
   Vergil shook his head, annoyed. He was about to leave when all the attention in the room shifted to the rusted valve like door of the Pit opening to reveal a skeleton-like man filled with maggots inside the loose rotten flesh, screaming, holding his head in his hands as the demons tossed the poor man into a sea of blood and fire. Virgil turned back and bowed his head with the respect that was expected of him. Eyes on the floor, he looked at the faded, yet still beautiful art beneath him depicting The Devil ruling the World in a collage that changed every so often, “…What is it that my master wishes of me?” he asked quietly, uncertain in accepting the unspoken task, his face stern.
   Pleased with Vergil’s uncharacteristic show of obedient allegiance, he continued, “There is a young woman that is of great interest. She is known as Angelea Sanctus and is under the protection of the Ordo Pius Sanctus Caelestis, known in your pitiful tongue as the Order of the Holy Saints of the Divine,” he answered in disgust, frowning as if the very mentioning of the Order left a bitter taste in his mouth. “All of my other… efforts… have failed me,” his master continued, with a growl as he glared at his followers that stood around his throne. The demons and devils only winced, bowing their garish and disfigured heads while backing away into the darkness of the throne room, out of sight.
   Vergil noticed the creatures disappearing into the cold black void; a few whimpered, while others growled or hissed in defiance. Vergil snorted at the pathetic sight, a wicked yet satisfied smirk crept onto his noble, hardened face.
   “It seems I have no other choice but to ask you to do this simple task. Are you interested?“ his master finished in a calculated quiet tone, laced with venom.
   There was a deafening silence-- clenching his jaw Vergil considered the dark lords’ words carefully, words that sounded almost a plea for his assistance. A woman… is that all? he thought, a brow raised in a silent question.
   It seemed too simple of a task but knowing the Devil, it was most likely far from it and would be difficult. But Vergil didn’t object to the notion and loved a challenge; he was interested indeed.
   “…This woman, what is it you want from her that you need to involve me?” Vergil questioned coolly, wanting to learn more of this assignment.
   The fallen prince frowned, annoyed, and glared at Vergil for being too inquisitive; of course, Vergil couldn’t see his master’s expression and only stared back intently, waiting for the answer.
   Angrily, with a hint of frustration, the prince replied, “This woman has something that I must have and I will stop at nothing to get it! She will prove to be a precious addition to this family of ours. Though to retrieve her… I would use caution...”
   Vergil contemplated what his dark lord said, knowing he was not finished. “I need you to assist me in… how should I put it, persuading her for me, since you may seem to have a better outcome than any of us. She does not trust us Devils and always has her guard up when any of us are present. She has no trouble standing up against us,” Lucifer shifted in his seat, bringing a hand to rest under his chin, quietly adding, “But you… you are different, you are half human after all,” Lucifer said quite amusedly as he smirked behind the shadows, knowing full well that the taboo of mentioning Vergil’s human side, as it always appeared to hit a nerve with him; a very tender nerve at that.
   Vergil flinched at the mention of him being half human, his hands tightening in a fist, jaw clenching as he ground his teeth behind his tightened lips. He felt the burning rage in his chest that spread throughout his body like a wild fire. He would always show hostility toward the demons who dared mention it in a cruel jape. But here he dare not show his wrath towards the Dark Prince; instead-- standing there in a cold, deathly silence, restraining himself from the anger that threatened to take control of him, he just stared into the darkness and burned away on the inside.
   “She trusts humans more than us Devils, her ridiculous notion that there is good in everyone, or at least some good in people, which I find laughable. There is no good in any soul of a human but pride, greed, wrath, and lust among many others. Now these things I would consider to be good. …Wouldn’t you agree Vergil?” he asked proudly as he peered down at Vergil questioningly.
   Vergil’s tired, dull cerulean blue eyes quietly stared at the black silhouette before him as he stiffly nodded in reply, his pale brows furrowed in thought; it would seem the fallen prince was displeased that he couldn’t vex the half-breed before him.
   “If you are wondering how you will be released from this place I have it all arranged. We have an informant in the Order who has sworn allegiance to us a very long time ago and has agreed to help you.” He then stood up from his scintillated seat and with bare feet, slowly descended down the gold inlaid ivory and ebony steps toward the waiting man he spoke to and continue delightedly, “A powerful sorcerer, he will summon you out of this place and bring you back to the human realm once again. Something which I’m certain appeals to your pleasure?” he finished, as he paused in front of Vergil, a mere few feet from him, glaring down at him with his obsidian, lifeless eyes.
   The Prince of Darkness stood menacingly, towering over Vergil. The mildly disheveled young man proudly stood his ground, not wavering in his stance as he stood just as menacingly back at the Devil before him.
   Show no weakness or fear; you are the Son of Sparda. Give them no satisfaction they so pathetically crave. He thought to himself, the muscles in his jaw tightening in defiance and pride. What he proposes must be some trickery. Why would he be so willing to free me from this prison? He wondered quietly in suspicion, his brows furrowed as his cold eyes searched for the answer in the face of the creature of death.
   He regarded the prince before him, a slender yet slightly muscular build of chillingly marble flesh with bluish-black veins snaking his body. He wore loose black silk pants laced with silver and gold, which glimmered in the light. His chest was bare with a robe made from the same fine silk hanging lightly over his shoulders, descending down toward the floor, extending out behind him in a long, shimmering river. A smooth material of gold in silver decorum lined the inside of his robe, the material slightly reflected on his pale flesh. A collage of wicked patterns in gold and silver were decorated throughout the hems of his robe, down the train and would engulf around his angelic sigil marking on the back between his shoulder blades. Black opals, amethysts and sapphires in an ornate design glimmered throughout his robe and the sides and hems of his pants. He looked wickedly exquisite yet it scarcely covered his sinful nature. His obsidian hair would glow silver in the candlelight as it fell at the sides of his oval thin face and splashed across his shoulders and chest down to the middle of his sinewy back.
   The Dark Prince of Hell looked silently down at the man with careful eyes, to bore into this man’s empty soul. Wrath still lingered in this man that seemed to keep his soul alive, refusing to be destroyed, from what he perceived. The half-breed’s spirit still grew strong despite Hell’s efforts to break him. He was partial to this very fact and believed Vergil would do well for the mission at hand, or so he hoped.
   The piercing tone of the Devil’s voice broke the silence, “Of course… I will greatly reward you for your efforts, Vergil. Grant you whatever your cold, black heart desires…” he hissed, the words rolling off his venomous tongue as he smiled, revealing a couple of sharp canines that glistened in the dim light.
   Vergil returned his attention back at his master. This piqued his interests; those words the creature had said repeated in his mind like a broken record. Anything I desire…he thought, eyes closed as he pondered.
   What did the Son of Sparda want? Love? Power? …Revenge? Yes, Vergil wanted revenge ever since he was trapped here, besides wanting the power he so desperately searched for in attaining his father’s abilities. These two were what he yearned more than anything, and the chance to be back in the light of day on Earth seemed too good to be true. To breathe in the fresh air that did not stink of sulfur, smoke and death and did not burn your lungs with every shallow breath. To be free from here and to revel in the pleasures of life on Earth once again, a concept he had almost lost hope of. The things he foolishly took for granted and had been denied since being condemned here, trapped… by his brother. The never ending torment of longing and memories of a past he wished to be forgotten, the excruciatingly painful hunger and thirst his body yearned for and that he mourned when it was never satiated. To have a drop of cold, fresh water moisten his lips would be pleasing enough but you would not find such a simple thing here to satisfy a broken body.
   A decision was made from his roaming thoughts, as he looked up at the jet black, malice filled eyes that belonged to the creature he loathed to call his master.
   “…I have decided,” came the deep, calm reply that was Vergil’s.
   “And what have you decided on my offer?” came the response, in a serious tone, the weight of the Pit was in those words, if Vergil refused him; all pleasantness had disappeared, the smile turned into a grim, tight line across his perfect face.
   The Devil waited in anticipation, his impatience clearly showing now that he was not answered quickly enough for his liking. "I will accept your offer on the condition that when I succeed I will not be returned here and will be freed from this realm. If you give me the power I've always wanted, I will do this task that you ask of me, and I will willingly serve you without disloyalty, but know that I will have my revenge as well, and there's nothing you nor your demons can do to stand in the way of that." Vergil finally answered strongly, in a monotone voice, arms crossed behind his back, head slightly raised as he gazed at the fallen prince to view his reaction to his response.
   Lucifer just looked at him in amusement. A sinful grin slowly crossed his face in a wicked, menacing way. A rumble from his chest broke through his thin pale lips as he laughed loudly in a deafening sound, as it echoed in the void of the large room held up by the veined marble pillars. Vergil glared coldly at him, wishing he had his Yamato, feeling insulted, and wondering why the dreadful man was laughing when it was clear it was at him.
   Lucifer walked around the half-breed slowly while smiling and questioned, “Is that all you want? No kingdom of your own nor riches? Immortality or the love of someone you desire or even to physically change who you are? I understand power… most always ask for such but you wish for revenge too? Why do you not wish for more from me when what you ask is so little? And here I thought you were greedy,” he paused, close to the young man before him as he faced him again, taking delight that his closeness made Vergil uncomfortable.
   Vergil could feel the wretched, cold breath that came from the prince, which gave a tingling sensation on the skin of his face, sending unwanted shivers down his spine. He averted his eyes away from the peering black orbs that gleamed in amusement.
   “…That is all I wish for, give it to me or leave me alone…,” he finally answered in a seething tone.
   Lucifer just smirked and walked forward a couple of feet, his back towards Vergil. “So be it… but I warn you… if you shall fail me in this simple task, I will have your soul and you will be returned here whether you are kicking and screaming or fruitlessly fighting your way out and nothing, not even your fathers power can help you save yourself.” He turned to face the man he was threatening, eyes glowing as the room suddenly gotten darker with groans and cries seeping from the shadows, “You will burn in the fires of Hell for all eternity, tormented in the ways you never dreamed possible, that you will know the true meaning of being forsaken and in misery. Do I make myself clear… Vergil?” he questioned challengingly in a chilling tone laced with malice, standing at arms length in front of the pale man.
   Vergil could feel the suffocating negative energy that seemed to envelop him. Feeling agony that overwhelmed his battered body as he cringed, his knees buckled beneath him and he had to put his weight on his left leg and arm to keep from falling head first onto the floor. His right slender fingers grasped at the scarf wrapped around his neck, trying to loosen it to help him breath but found it did not help as he gasped for air, chest tightening, while it felt as though his heart would burst from his chest. Lucifer came down to the gasping man’s eye level, observing that his eyes were turning red and moist with unshed tears.
   The usual evil smirk crossed his lips and in a stern tone, “…Do I make myself clear?”
   “…Ye-…y-yesss.” Came the barely audible, reply, squeezed out between gasps.
   Pleased with the answer, he stood up, the room changing back to its usual appearance. Vergil coughed and gasped, feeling the pain slowly ebb away as he gradually stood up straightening himself, feeling quite humiliated in front of all who silently watched. Facing him, the Prince of Darkness held an altheme made of bone in his left hand. The hilt was decorated with gold and ruby star sapphires inlay. The blade sharp and pointed in a cream color as it broke into the pale flesh of its wielder; a deep red-black seeped out from the line the knife left behind on the palm of his long hand, the cold liquid dripping in several splatters of chaos onto the floor. He handed the knife to Vergil, who in turn hesitantly, did the same to his right hand after removing his dark beige colored glove, reminding himself to show no fear as he cut into his thick flesh. After making the same flesh wound he let the altheme fall onto the floor, forgotten as it made a loud clang that echoed off into the darkness that surrounded them. The prince held out his hand and Vergil grasped it strongly, their blood intermixing for a moment as the white haired man stared at their hands. His jaw clenched as he cringes slightly at the contact with the monster’s hands, feeling the bitter chill of its blood seep into his veins, causing goose bumps to crawl on his skin. It was a very uncomfortable feeling and he quickly let go of the creature’s grasp, looking at his hand, observing that the wound was slowly closing, caused by his demonic-half ‘s ability to quickly heal.
   He stepped back to put more of a distance between him and his lord, letting his hand rest at his side into a fist. He noticed that the Devil’s hand also healed instantly, leaving no trace of a scar but left behind a residue of his blood to indicate what was once there. A pact with The Devil was made and it was too late to turn back; now he must look forward and make certain he completes this task no matter what. Nothing would stand in his way and he would kill any who dared. He would not allow himself to lose his freedom again, even if it killed him, and if it means he has to “persuade” a meaningless woman-- however trivial it may be, to attain his freedom, then so be it!
   “The time has come and you will be leaving soon. Prepare yourself and tread carefully once back in the human world. Do what the sorcerer asks of you without disobedience and be wise in your endeavors. I will not tolerate failure lest you crave the wrath from my brethren and I. Heed my warning of the woman you are after, she is not like anyone else…” Lucifer said coldly as he glared down at the half-breed menacingly in warning, “And remember what I have said if you fail me…” he hissed as his bony finger went across his slender, veined neck as a cut across his throat.
   Vergil nodded in a silent acknowledgment, never flinching as his ice blue eyes stared back into the dead ones, muscles in his jaw tightened and hands clenching into a fist so tightly, so harshly he could feel his nails tear into his flesh. He stiffly and respectfully bowed, as it was expected of him, as he slowly backed away, then lifting up to turn and walk into the shadows, never glancing at the snickering demons and growling devils that failed to frighten him. As he quickly walked away from the dead throne room of the Fallen and their Dark Prince he began to feel much better. He made his first act towards freedom to return his glove to his hand, returning the want to drive his fist into the face of his ashen oppressor.
   Feeling relieved that he was leaving behind this God forsaken place, he speculated how much the Earth had changed, knowing he had lost all sense of time since he’d been imprisoned here, and wondered how soon he would see his little brother. He was hell bent on showing Dante the torment he had been forced to suffer in this wretched place. Soon he would have his vengeance, and the quicker he finished this bothersome task, the sooner he would be free from the Prince of Darkness and his minions and this forbidden place he rather soon forget. Free to return to his life of solitude and its pleasures; he could almost taste it. He’d forgotten what it was like to taste water, to feel the brilliant warmth of the sun, the smell of nature and its crisp breeze-- he would try to imagine all of this in his mind’s eye but would fail to do so from the terrible sounds around him leaving him cold and yearning. And to be able to experience it again soon, he would never take anything for granted, even the simplest of things as he waited patiently to be summoned out of this nightmare.
I’m going to sound quite pathetic and letting go of my pride for the moment but… Please have mercy and review my story. I yearn for reviews like Vergil yearns for water, like the Devil yearns for souls, like the dead yearn for life! I need reviews in order to live on and continue writing this fic because they inspire me and let's me know if I'm doing well in my writing. I also just enjoy reading what people have to say with their constructive criticism. :P …please show some compassion… ;__;
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A Devil's Heart