Change of Fate

Authoresses Note: Sorry for the long delay. I was smacked very hard by writer’s block. Hopefully this chapter will make up for it somewhat… ^^ Don’t have any weird words in this chapter, just some good ‘ole fashioned poking fun at things. ^^ A little ‘Ryn and Trish bonding as well as some spiffy dialogue… some of it I rather enjoyed writing! Anyway, enjoy!!


When I woke, I found I was back in his bed clothed in an oversized black t-shirt.

A breeze danced over my bare thighs and arm, making the smaller hairs flutter. I was curled on my side, knees tucked up, one hand curled into the pillows while the other lay stretched out in front of me. I felt around my face, and noticed that the pillows were covered in cotton, which surprised me as his sheets were silk, creating a gentle difference in feeling. That and someone had braided my hair back.

Opening my eyes, I decided to look around the room I was laying in. Rolling onto my back, I pushed myself up, ignoring my aching head.

“You’re awake now.”

Trish’s voice startled me, my hand settling around my throat as I turned, a little too fast, to stare at the doorway. “I… yes, I am awake.” I watched her as she leaned against the doorjamb, her own long hair braided back as she held a bowl in her long hands.

“Dante said to bring this up. He’s out trying to find leads on something.” She walked across the floorboards, handing me the bowl and digging a spoon out from her back pocket. “It’s not that hot now, so you should be able to eat.” After passing me the bowl, she turned to leave.

“Trish,” I called, not looking up from the bowl in my lap. “I’m sorry. For any trouble I’ve caused between the two of you.”

She snorted. “Dante doesn’t see me that way, no matter how hard I try to make him see me as something other than his mother, he can’t. He knows I’m a different person, but he still doesn’t see me for Trish rather than Beatrice.”

I choked, jerking my head to stare at Trish’s back. “Beatrice? Sparda’s wife was named Beatrice?!”

She turned around, giving me an annoyed look. “Yes, why’s that funny?”

I gently sat the bowl down on Dante’s side table and turned to fully face Trish. “Have you ever read a book called The Divine Comedy?”

Her golden eyebrows furrowed. “No. What’s the point?”

I smiled and shook my head. “Everything.”

She frowned at me, her eyes narrowing at my good mood. “Well, explain it!”

I closed my eyes and thought for a moment.

“Through me the way into the suffering city,
Through me the way to the eternal pain,
Through me the way that runs among the lost.
Justice urged on my high artificer;
My maker was divine authority,
The highest wisdom, and the primal love.
Before me nothing but eternal things were made,
And I endure eternally.
Abandon every hope, ye who enter here.”

“That’s interesting, but it doesn’t explain anything.” Trish crossed her arms, I could tell she was annoyed at me.

Shaking my head, I looked back up at her and patted the area beside me. “Sit, for I don’t wish to crane my neck and make it ache more.” I waited until she sat down about a foot from me. “The Divine Comedy is an Italian poem broken into three parts: Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso. The reason I find this whole situation funny is that the author was a man named Dante Alighieri. His driving force is his perfect woman, Beatrice, one who lives in Paradise. On his trip through the Inferno and Purgatorio, he has a guide, Virgil. He’s a ‘virtuous pagan’, meaning he was unbaptized or born before Christ and thus resided in the first layer of Hell, Limbo.”

I grinned at Trish’s confused face. “Virgil, Dante, and Beatrice are… very ironic choices for a mate and names for children. That, and Sparda came from Hell to be redeemed by Beatrice, in a sense.”

She sat there, shaking her head. “I don’t think it’s as strange as that.”

I laughed. “I’ll bet you dinner that this is why Sparda chose to name his sons Dante and Virgil.”

“Don’t have to bet, doll. It’s the truth. Dad was always fond of that piece of writing. Well, that and Paradise Lost.”

We both looked up to see Dante shrugging out of the long red leather trench and tossing it over an old battered chair in the corner of the room. He walked forward to sit on the bed at my other side. Hauling one foot up to his knee, he started undoing the laces of his boots, fingers nimbly pulling threads. He did the same to his other boot and soon they were thrown in the same corner as his jacket before he flopped down on the bed, his forearm covering his face.

“Dad always got a chuckle out of it. So did Mom, truth be told. Said she was livin’ her own version.” He sighed and arched his back off the bed, and I heard the bones in his back cracking. “They met at a book shop somewhere, goin’ for the same book. Dante’s Inferno was always my mother’s favorite book.”

“Where did you go, Dante?”

“Eh, out, you know?” His response was muffled by the arm over his face. “Why?”

“Curious. You said you were looking for something.”

“Was.”

“You were? Does that mean you found whatever it is you’re searching for?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Nope. Not your concern yet, Trishy. I’ll let you know when it does though.”

I heard Trish snarl and I felt supremely uncomfortable between the two of them. I ducked my head and reached over Dante’s legs to grab the bowl that Trish had given me a little while ago.

I peered inside the bowl, trying to ignore the tension between the two of them, and saw rice, cheese, tomatoes… It looked rather inviting and didn’t smell spicy. Despite my queasiness, I decided to simply try it out of sheer obligation. To my surprise, it was quite tasty and didn’t add to the nausea.

I heard Dante laugh, and I looked over at him to see him propped up on his elbows, watching me.

“What?”

“If I thought you’d like that, I would have had Trish make a lot more.” He was laughing.

“It’s… it’s good.”

Trish started laughing too. “You practically licked the bowl clean!”

I felt myself flush as I stared down into the empty bowl. “It was good.”

Trish took the bowl from my hands and left the room, laughing as she went. I put my hand to my face, covering my eyes as I shook my head. I felt a warm hand settle under the shirt against my back.

“Hey, it’s understandable. You haven’t eaten anything here, and considering that you were spitting blood, well, I doubt you ate anything back where you’re from.”

I sat there silent, staring at my fingers. “Did you braid my hair back?”

His laughter died, and I could practically hear him blinking in confusion. “Yeah, so?”

“Just didn’t think Dante Sparda was the type of man to know how to braid.” I felt my lips curl up in a smirk.

“Yeah, well, sometimes you’ve gotta braid your own belts.” I turned to watch him. “Not everything I have I bought made, doll.” He curled his arm around my waist, pulling me back onto the bed with him. He shifted, bringing us both face to face. “I never had a silver spoon.”

I smiled at him and shook my head. “I never did either.”

His hand, still covered in the fingerless gloves, smoothed back the soft tresses of hair that escaped the braid. They trailed over my face, gently brushing across my cheekbones, my eyes, the curve of my jaw.

“Why are you always such a contradiction?” I asked after he settled his hand against my thickened waist.

“What’d you mean, babe?” He asked quietly as he pulled me closer to him, letting my head slide onto his shoulder.

“I mean… every time I think I’ve got you figured out, you do something that I think is totally out of your characterization.” I sighed as I buried my face in the hollow of his throat, my arm curling around his shoulders.

“Don’t know what ya mean.” I heard the smile in his voice as his fingers trailed up and down my spine.

“Dante,” I sighed softly, my fingers caressing a bare patch of his skin. “You’re such an enigma…”

“Don’t aim to be. What you see is what you get.”

“You mean a foul-mouthed, sex-crazed, half-breed adrenalin-junkie devil hunter?”

“Ouch, babe. That really hurt.” He clutched his hand against his heart in mock pain.

“Which part? They were all true as far as I know.”

“For your information, smartass, I may be foul mouthed, but I ain’t a sex-crazed adrenalin junkie.”

“Ok, so going up against Mundus yourself and having a nasty habit of high-speed-motorcycle tricks don’t count?”

He froze. “Where’d you hear about the bike?”

I started laughing. “Lucky guess? I figured it out just by all the leather you wear.” I brushed my lips against the curve of his jaw. “Not that much of a logical leap to make, Son of Sparda.”

“You know, Trish once threw a bike at me.”

I blinked. “Somehow, I wonder if it was your fault.” I got a playful rap on the cheek for that one.

“No, seriously. She hauled off and threw her bike at me. It was a nice bike, too. A shame I had to destroy it.”

We lay there in silence for a few more minuets.

“So, what’s with all the leather, Devil Boy?” I felt him freeze again. “I mean, sometimes you dress like a street walker!”

“It’s part of the gig. Gotta act the gritty part, right? ‘Sides, I’d rather die than give up my leather pants.”

“But leather chafes when wet.”

There was an awkward pause. “Yeah… I know.”