Chapter Text
In the end, it always came down to blood with the two of them. Whether it was the blood they shared in, or spilled out of their veins didn't matter; even in more innocent times it was the catalyst that would seal their fates.
The cut was trivial looking back on it, especially to two half demon children who could and would survive much worse. Yet, it had looked so large sliced diagnol all the way across Dante's small index finger when they were still young, and had been suprisingly deep. Vergil had not seen the offending page slice his brother, but he definitely heard the whinging scream that followed. Like the responsible older twin he was always reminded he should be, he put down his own book to tend to his needy little brother. The poems he'd wanted to ask mother to read them before bed that night were forgotten in favor of a squirming Dante waving his hand around more like he'd been burned than cut.
"The book cut meeee!" His brother screamed.
If Vergil had been a little older he might have questioned why Dante, who didn't care for reading and wasn't nearly as advanced at it as himself at that age, was looking at books in the library in the first place. Or taken note of a letter opener tossed away under the nearby reading chair. Dante was always a little attention seeker from birth.
Vergil snatched his hand from the air and pulled it over with a scowl on his young face.
"Hold still. It's getting on your clothes."
In his display Dante had left little red splatters on the white fabric mother had just had cleaned the other day. Mentioning it just seemed to make him get worse as he yanked Vergil around along with his hand and managed to get some on his puffy sleeves. Ripped, smeared, or stained - Dante was fond of ruining his own clothing and forcing their parents to replace them in their earliest days.
"It HURTS!" He squealed.
"You get worse than this playing with me all the time!" He said and locked his grip on his brother to keep him in place as Dante tried to move it away again. "It gets better if you don't touch it, remember?"
Once they looked at it, it was getting smaller already. There was only a small prick left on the red coated, pale hand of his brother. Dante wasn't pleased enough by the reminder though as he puffed his cheeks and huffed at his brother.
Vergil, impatient and annoyed, did the first thing he could think and popped the tip of his twin's bloody finger into his mouth. It was just like their mother had done when Vergil had poked himself with a peeling knife. For his troubles he was given and indignant noise from Dante, and a strange tingle on his tongue. There was the typical taste of sour copper that any human would have tasted, but beneath it something richer coated his tongue. The part of him not fully human tasted something more savory with a hint of sweetness like the veal they'd had the other night mixed with the most fragrant fruit he'd ever bitten into. It sang to him…
Dante shattered the moment by yanking his hand out and scrunching up his face. "Ew, you drooled on me!"
A trail of saliva dripped down his little brother's hand mixed with his blood.
He wiped it on the ruffles of his collar and Vergil pulled his hand back again.
"Stop doing that!" He growled and yanked him by his wrist to their bedroom.
There were talks of giving them seperate rooms soon, but it had yet to happen. The twins made their way down the long halls of the manor passing by painted portraits looking down on them. The echoes of their steps and Dante's huffing were the only sound Vergil had to distract himself from the lingering taste of his brother's blood that kept coming back.
Vergil knew one sure way to make sure Dante didn't ruin his clothes again for the rest of the day. He pulled open his own drawer on their shared dresser and grabbed a white shirt, and a pair of black shorts. He threw them both at his brother's feet.
"Go wash and put those on." He ordered.
Mother and Father would ask why he was wearing Vergil's clothes again, but at least he'd be presentable for dinner.
Dante didn't argue and ran to the bathroom after scooping them up with his clean hand and shut the door behind him with a slam. Vergil didn't miss the smile on his face, or small sound of glee after he shut the door. The sound of water running came from behind the door a second later. He didn't think too much on it though as he turned his back to the door and waited.
Two small twin beds, one with blue sheets and the other with red, seperated by a single nightstand met him across the room. A small blue bear sat on Vergil's pillow and an equally small pink elephant on Dante's. At the foot of both beds was a toy chest with a name carved into each.
'Vergil'
'B-'
He narrowed his eyes at where his brother had scratched the letters on his own the other week to scratch in 'Kooler Twin' under it in crooked letters. Such a strange creature, his brother was.
The door opened and closed quickly after the water stopped running. He turned and saw Dante had thrown his old clothes out onto the floor. He curled his lip in disgust, but went to pick it up anyways. He looked over the ruined pile of white fabric and ruffles on the ground splattered with red all over it. Among it were his shined, black shoes open at the top with little straps across them, and the red ribbon that had barely been hanging on in the bow mother had tied it in that morning even before Dante took it off.
Vergil was starting to think he was doing this on purpose…
Dante of course popped out right when he had moved the laundry into their basket with a big, stupid grin on his face, and lunged into Vergil laughing.
"Thanks Verg!" He said and practically pinned him with his enthusiam hugging him.
Vergil of course started to squirm and squawk as he shoved him off. "Why do you only take care of MY clothes?! If you don't like the dresses just tell mom already!"
One of many secrets that had 'twin privelage' as Dante had called it. One too many on account of all the extra shirts Vergil kept having to get washed because of Dante. It was getting annoying; the taking his clothes, watching mother shake her head as he kept ruining the things she got for him, and confusing Vergil with what to call him any given time!
"…" Silence and stillness from Dante always felt unnatural as a response. He sat next the Vergil on the floor and pulled his legs to his chest. "What if she tells me to stop? Or Papa does?"
He almost pointed out that Mother and Father's disapproval hadn't kept him from doing endless other things he'd been told not to, but…
Instead, he sat up and wrapped his arms around his twin.
"Don't be stupid. They let you get away with anything."
He was right, of course. It was not long after that mother gathered up all his brother's dresses and replaced them with clothes more like Vergils with bright reds instead of blues. The toybox was refurbished, and anything that had been stitched with a name other than 'Dante' was unwoven and resewn. And, sure enough when they were presented with their amulets after father went away and didn't come back they read 'Vergil and Dante' engraved on them. The terms sister and daughter faded from their everyday life with barely any effort.
That day, Dante's response was to brighten up and take the moment as permission to cling to Vergil whilst giggling. Vergil's eyes fell to his hand. Cleaned with no signs of the cut, but Vergil could still smell the remains of his brother's blood on the bare skin. More than that, he could hear a muffled pulse from inside his brother. The memory of taste returned to his mouth. He was a bit scared he wanted to eat his little brother in the moment; but quickly brushed that off as not making sense.
It was the confusion of a child trying to make sense of instincts that he wouldn't fully grow into for many years. By then, they would long be seperated. Vergil would wake from nightmares of flames whose smoke smelled like tender meat and strawberries, and the sound of a familiar pulse echoing in his ears. The demon in him would scream in rage while Vergil cried out to no one.
Seeing getting knocked back onto his knee would never stop being fun. His brother pushed back to a halt and caught his breath as he leaned on Yamato to steady himself. Dante's grin felt like it would add new lines to his face when it finally came down.
"Score for Dante," He announced proudly through a breathless exhale. "I'm up one."
He lifted a finger up to really rub it in. He had to keep Vergil humble so he didn't go off on anymore world ending plans again anytime soon.
"Where did you learn to count?" Vergil shot back. He lifted his head up. "We're even."
Dante sighed and lowered himself to the ground both to catch his breath and be eye level with Vergil on his side.
Well, that confirmed what he already thought; Vergil remembered jack and shit about his time as Nelo. No thought or consideration to count it as he sat to be level with his brother for a moment and catch his own breath. Good, the tired look of acceptance from each of V's familiars in their last moments made his gut clench a little less, and it let him take a few more things to the grave.
Vergil's hand hadn't let go of Yamato, and Dante's own itched to bring his sword back up any moment.
"I'm starting to think," Dante said wistfully, "this is never gonna end."
God, he could only hope.
"Maybe," Vergil said. Dante resisted trying to get too hopeful about the amusement he thought he could hear in Vergil's tone. Vergil motioned to their surroundings. "We got plenty of time."
The Underworld surrounded them in an arena of gnarled, mishappen layers of wood and stone that all looked at least semi flesh like. He could never understand how Sparda felt nostalgia for this place when it always just looked like a creepy nonsensical mess to Dante. Maybe that's just because he wasn't familiar with it, though. Did Vergil see something here that Dante missed after spending so many years locked away?
Probably not, considering the torment and all.
Dante laughed as he brought himself back to standing and Vergil did the same. He brought his sword bearing his own name back up and readied for the next round. In the blink of an eye they were clashing again. Sword on sword, eyes reflecting back at each other in determination not to be outdone, and they both reveled in it. They came to a few quick blows before their swords pressed side to side, and sparks flew around them. Thw two near unbreakable blades slid and grinded together inches from both their faces.
It was a miracle and probably something to do with their demonic heritage that they were ever identical in the first place outside of one thing - and Dante had done his damnetst to correct that one from an early age. But, over two decades apart had created a new divide. Both had aged, but Vergil with tired and haunted bags under his eyes that may never fade from his otherwise reborn and renewed body was different from Dante's laugh and smile lines left behind by a lifetime of wearing the same mask. He almost wanted to feel smug about managing to be hairier with his face scruff and body fuzz to Vergil's more smooth, statuesque figure.
He was broader, Vergil was taller. He tanned from his life of hard work on the surface, Vergil was forever pale from the sunlight he was denied in the Underworld. He could keep going on about all the little ways he and Vergil had changed from the mirror reflections that faced each other at that damned tower twenty-five years ago.
Instead, he kept smiling and leaning into the press of the swords they inherited. Any ground one gained the other would steal back instantly, and the only thing that grew closer was their physical bodies holding the swords. He could lean in and topple over on Vergil like he used to as kids when he got tired of Vergil's guard not breaking. But, the demon world had other ideas.
They both sensed the oncoming horde seconds before it appeared. Pushing off one another they split apart to keep either of them from being in the way of two demons that curled in and rolled their sharp bodies across the ground. On either side of the divided line they created, they began to split the crowd and strike.
It was a nice pocket of vermin, but not anything that would actually pose a threat. Like their interupted fight, Dante reveled in it. The two slashed across the circle the demons formed around them to the edge of it. Then, they lept back to eachother at the center as it closed in. Back to back Vergil posed on the defensive with Yamato on guard in front of him. Dante as he sheathed Rebellion on his leap back fell into a crouch and slid out each of his pistols in a smooth transition.
"Don't you dare say it-"
"Jackpot." He said with the full mirth of knowing he was getting under Vergil's skin with his antics.
He fired two shots, and the rest of it was just playing between the two of them that demons happened to drop dead from the ground and sky during. Their bodies fell in sync and kept almost brushing. They stood on a pile of corpses and he swore he heard Vergil laughing. The final one, one of the big bastards that had tried to hit and run them, barreled towards Dante.
Rather than dodge it, he leaned into Vergil reaching for him. His older brother hooked an arm around his waist and swung them both in a motion that resembled a twirl into a side step out of the way. Dante spun with him, pure ecstasy and adrenaline in his veins, and leaned over his brother's shoulder to take aim and fire the final shot.
It fell limp with a death screech and faded into oblivion. The battlefield was littered with red clusters of demonic energy for them to consume, and not a single demon left to escape.
He panted out his breaths from deep in his chest not from exhaustion, but excitement. He wondered if he was hyperventilating, until he realized half of the ragged breaths he was hearing were from Vergil. His brother's arm was still hooked around his waist, and Dante was still pressed close enough to lean his head over his shoulder. Yamato's blade was pressed into his hip, and Ebony's metal was hot from a freshly fired shot just past Vergil's face.
They were burning in each other's space, and Dante started to come back to himself from the dizzy high of what just happened. He moved to pull back when his nostrils flared. A bittersweet and savory smell wafted into his nose and coated the back of his tongue. Across's Vergil's cheekbone was a single thin cut already closing itself as a red bead struggled to escape.
"Dante."
Vergil's breathless voice, instead of breaking the spell, pushed Dante back under as his tongue pressed out to catch the droplet just as the scratch sealed.
Beneath the copper, his twin's blood tasted like dark chocolate and veal.