Teach Me To Be You
folder
+A through F › Devil May Cry
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,710
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+A through F › Devil May Cry
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,710
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
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.
Teach Me To Be. (like you.)
Teach Me To Be. (like you.)
A/N: a Sparda/Vergil centric DARKFIC. Basic idea was to somehow create a plausible Vergil-uke for a dear friend who’s name is ironically Vergil. His request, and my response to it. ^^ enjoy.
I do not own DMC. It is Capcom's.
The high ring of clashing swords echoed in the arches. Sparks of frenzied fighting flew and died, illuminating the two Masters. All was dark. The air screeched as her throat was slit by a blade forged from the blood of innocence. The shadows of the sword stretched their sinister wings and flew towards its unguarded rival. For one brief moment, all was silent. Then metal hissed against weaker metal. Sparks of rage flew once again, and died with a gasp as the lesser creature of folded steel was torn from its Master’s hands. It buried it’s jagged fang in the weary stone, hiding red and silver tear-streaked eyes from Master.
“Vergil!”
The ground tremored, cowering from the voice itself. It bowed beneath the man’s feet. The arches shrank back into fathomless nothingness. Lightning praised it’s ruler, flashing triumphantly in the face of the defeated. Yamato was put back in it’s cage of stonewood, flickering back to it’s brother Lightning joyfully. It’s Master Sparda spoke with deceptive calmness.
“Pick up your blade, Vergil.”
The other, younger, did not cower. He did not flinch or bow or shrink back from his superior. Wide moonlight eyes gazed steadily, without humanity, into Sparda.
“I can’t, Sir.”
The Dark Lord grasped Vergil’s chin with infinite grace and delicacy. Only his eyes betrayed his cold demeanor. They danced with irritation and some sort of twisted mirth at the young alchemist’ failure. His son’s failure.
“You can’t? Please, tell me how you mean this.”
Vergil, still unmoving, needn’t answer. The thin scream of blood as it splashed upon the frozen ground echoed. It curved the corners of the older Devil’s mouth into a superior frown. He glared upon his son, hearing even the boy’s heart skip. Ice froze the flash of wispy lightning as it dared break the eerie silence. Words as soft as the roll of thunder but as jagged and cruel as glass bit deep into Vergil, then.
“Tell me why.”
“I have failed…again.”
“And what will you do?”
Vergil kneeled before his Father and his Lord.
“I will accept and learn from your punishment. I will improve.”
“And after you have improved?”
Here, the young Prince started. Had his Master ever asked his this? Had he ever been told how to answer?
“Vergil. Answer me.”
He searched the ground for an answer to satisfy his Lord. He had been told that his element was the key to answer he sought. Where was Ice to help him now?
Deadly clawed fingers twined themselves in his short hair, pulling back for him to meet his Master’s cold gaze. Inhuman eyes stared deeper than flesh would cover. He understood. This was the gaze of a Master to a slave. He had failed his task twice, the Ice in those eyes said. Now, he must be punished for a failure intolerable.
“Hai, Sparda-sama. Hai.”
Vergil dropped to his hands and knees, blood-painted hands immediately frozen in place. All his self belonged to his Master, in one way or the next. Now, his flesh would be taken to ease the anger he had so greedily forced on his Lord for failing. He was to remain silent, lest his punishment turn into yet another failure.
He felt the cold air, kissing his now bare flesh, The even colder stinging slap to his backside. Sparda knelt behind him, never bringing himself to the inferior’s hieght. He grasped the pale flesh proffered, claws bringing black blood past it’s flesh prison.
The Dark Master entered in one swift, smooth stroke, so as a blade slipping between ribs to pierce a proud heart. Clenched fists shattered the ice that held them captive. The frozen jagged blood tore them open, made them even more useless to his Lord. He was being torn open from within; Sparda was thrusting inside of him, devoid of mercy and love. It was cold, piercingly cold, like his death-dealing talons, spreading Vergil’s blood on the floor. The was his punishment and his taboo pleasure, his undoing and his treat. And even when his Master spilled his anger deep inside him, it was painful.
He pulled out and flung the body of his son to the earth, shattering the ice and piercing his body in a thousand places at once. Vergil shuddered and lay still, expecting the further beating. Sparda delivered no more furious wrath to the weaker of them. The World’s own Devil cleared the worried Ice with a sweep of the crackling Yamato, showering chillingly hot sparks onto Vergil. He lay on his side next to the unmoving Prince, caressing blood-streaked hair with the same gentile grace as a father might.
“Tell me, again, Vergil. What will you do after you become as strong as the Devil?”
“Even If I am destined to get as strong, I will always belong to you, Lord.”
OTHER AN: I realize there are plenty of repeated words, and it was intentionally so. The idea was to put Vergil in a situation where he truly has no identity. The only things he realizes here, are the ones his Master, or Sparda himself, has taught him. ^^
A/N: a Sparda/Vergil centric DARKFIC. Basic idea was to somehow create a plausible Vergil-uke for a dear friend who’s name is ironically Vergil. His request, and my response to it. ^^ enjoy.
I do not own DMC. It is Capcom's.
The high ring of clashing swords echoed in the arches. Sparks of frenzied fighting flew and died, illuminating the two Masters. All was dark. The air screeched as her throat was slit by a blade forged from the blood of innocence. The shadows of the sword stretched their sinister wings and flew towards its unguarded rival. For one brief moment, all was silent. Then metal hissed against weaker metal. Sparks of rage flew once again, and died with a gasp as the lesser creature of folded steel was torn from its Master’s hands. It buried it’s jagged fang in the weary stone, hiding red and silver tear-streaked eyes from Master.
“Vergil!”
The ground tremored, cowering from the voice itself. It bowed beneath the man’s feet. The arches shrank back into fathomless nothingness. Lightning praised it’s ruler, flashing triumphantly in the face of the defeated. Yamato was put back in it’s cage of stonewood, flickering back to it’s brother Lightning joyfully. It’s Master Sparda spoke with deceptive calmness.
“Pick up your blade, Vergil.”
The other, younger, did not cower. He did not flinch or bow or shrink back from his superior. Wide moonlight eyes gazed steadily, without humanity, into Sparda.
“I can’t, Sir.”
The Dark Lord grasped Vergil’s chin with infinite grace and delicacy. Only his eyes betrayed his cold demeanor. They danced with irritation and some sort of twisted mirth at the young alchemist’ failure. His son’s failure.
“You can’t? Please, tell me how you mean this.”
Vergil, still unmoving, needn’t answer. The thin scream of blood as it splashed upon the frozen ground echoed. It curved the corners of the older Devil’s mouth into a superior frown. He glared upon his son, hearing even the boy’s heart skip. Ice froze the flash of wispy lightning as it dared break the eerie silence. Words as soft as the roll of thunder but as jagged and cruel as glass bit deep into Vergil, then.
“Tell me why.”
“I have failed…again.”
“And what will you do?”
Vergil kneeled before his Father and his Lord.
“I will accept and learn from your punishment. I will improve.”
“And after you have improved?”
Here, the young Prince started. Had his Master ever asked his this? Had he ever been told how to answer?
“Vergil. Answer me.”
He searched the ground for an answer to satisfy his Lord. He had been told that his element was the key to answer he sought. Where was Ice to help him now?
Deadly clawed fingers twined themselves in his short hair, pulling back for him to meet his Master’s cold gaze. Inhuman eyes stared deeper than flesh would cover. He understood. This was the gaze of a Master to a slave. He had failed his task twice, the Ice in those eyes said. Now, he must be punished for a failure intolerable.
“Hai, Sparda-sama. Hai.”
Vergil dropped to his hands and knees, blood-painted hands immediately frozen in place. All his self belonged to his Master, in one way or the next. Now, his flesh would be taken to ease the anger he had so greedily forced on his Lord for failing. He was to remain silent, lest his punishment turn into yet another failure.
He felt the cold air, kissing his now bare flesh, The even colder stinging slap to his backside. Sparda knelt behind him, never bringing himself to the inferior’s hieght. He grasped the pale flesh proffered, claws bringing black blood past it’s flesh prison.
The Dark Master entered in one swift, smooth stroke, so as a blade slipping between ribs to pierce a proud heart. Clenched fists shattered the ice that held them captive. The frozen jagged blood tore them open, made them even more useless to his Lord. He was being torn open from within; Sparda was thrusting inside of him, devoid of mercy and love. It was cold, piercingly cold, like his death-dealing talons, spreading Vergil’s blood on the floor. The was his punishment and his taboo pleasure, his undoing and his treat. And even when his Master spilled his anger deep inside him, it was painful.
He pulled out and flung the body of his son to the earth, shattering the ice and piercing his body in a thousand places at once. Vergil shuddered and lay still, expecting the further beating. Sparda delivered no more furious wrath to the weaker of them. The World’s own Devil cleared the worried Ice with a sweep of the crackling Yamato, showering chillingly hot sparks onto Vergil. He lay on his side next to the unmoving Prince, caressing blood-streaked hair with the same gentile grace as a father might.
“Tell me, again, Vergil. What will you do after you become as strong as the Devil?”
“Even If I am destined to get as strong, I will always belong to you, Lord.”
OTHER AN: I realize there are plenty of repeated words, and it was intentionally so. The idea was to put Vergil in a situation where he truly has no identity. The only things he realizes here, are the ones his Master, or Sparda himself, has taught him. ^^