Chapter Text
12/**/19**
Stormy, Wednesday, 9:34am.
I found the target on the independent zealot island of Fortuna, he was researching what I can only assume was related to the demonic and the legend of Sparda. Although when confronted by father and myself, he denied all assumptions. Still, considering that he accepted father’s proposal, it is clear that he was attempting to find clues regarding Sparda’s legacy and how he can obtain it. At first, this was easy to manipulate. Father… He knows a lot—too much about devils and the separation of theirs and our world; he wants to remove the barrier separating them, he wants to become something greater. In his research he discovered this, the Temen-ni-gru. A tower of incredible power, the shrine in which this seal can be broken; but only with the blood of Sparda. Or so he convinced that man. I know what else is required. I am prepared. If I don’t do this then he will use Mary. I won’t allow her to be sacrificed for this.
I don’t want to be sacrificed for this but it is my duty as her elder sister.
I can’t write anything else, I don’t know who might see it.
Mary, if you see this I’m sorry. I’ve been a bad sister to you. You can do anything you put your mind to, you’re strong, little sister. Please forgive me. I am weak.
—Yours
Dalia Ann Arkham
02/**/19**
Stormy, Monday, 1:43pm.
They raised the tower in the epicentre of Redgrave. I cannot fathom the casualties and I’m certain neither of them care. I am a tool, nothing more. I continue to do my job but it is demeaning, it makes me feel sick. He has no interest in me, I have none in him; it is a game. I am nothing but a tool to them both. It frustrates me that I am realising how belittled, how inhuman I am being treated—like nothing better than a dog, but I do nothing about it. What is there to be done? I have nothing but my body, this blood of mine. My brain is of no use to either of them, it will cease working towards the end of this campaign; at which point I hope you can fix your sister’s errors, Mary. I admit I have made many mistakes in my life but this one… I just wanted to protect you but did I go about it the wrong way? I have been dreaming recently. Mary I wanted to see you growing up beside me, going to school and college, not… Not this. I suppose you’ve always been good with firearms though, I’m a little envious that our mother’s passion was passed onto only one of us.
Mary… I am growing tired of being used. Our father’s hopes for me lie in deception, I am to distract that man with my body, avert his eyes to our father’s plans. It is not his fault, he is not the real threat. Our father is manipulating him, manipulating all of us. I am guilty too. I cannot stress to you how many times I have wanted to tell this man the truth, apologise for lying and deceiving him; he will kill me, I know he will. That is nothing but a relief for someone like me, and so I will not tell him. I do not want him to know that I am despicable. Mary I fear I am becoming twisted.
Sometimes I find myself laughing. Our father treats me as a maid, as a nuisance, as a mule, as nothing more than a blood bag. I let him. I should not be writing these things on paper. The man, the son of Sparda, treats me better than he ever has. Even when he scorns me for human folly, even when he looks down on me for being human and weak, he is tender. Maybe I am disillusioned. I don’t think I’m the best judge of character anymore. He has taken to sparring me for entertainment, I much prefer the cuts and grazes to the activities my father had me offering him. I’m glad we no longer partake in that. Sparring is enjoyable. He complimented me once.
Mary, I hope you are safe. Do not come to this tower, I implore. Demons are flocking this place.
I am afraid, Mary.
—Yours
Dalia Ann Arkham
**/**/19** I don’t know, the days are blurring together. I haven’t been outside in a while. I don’t even know the time anymore.
These letters I write, initially with no intended recipient, more akin to diary entries, Mary, they are keeping me sane. Father left to take care of you. For the love of everything holy, Mary, why did you come to this place? No, I shouldn’t blame you or even get upset at you. I would do the same, maybe I would’ve been beside you if I thought this through a little more. Still, it’s not all bad. The man is cold to my father but he talks to me often, perhaps he prefers my company? I must say that I can’t blame him, our father speaks so loftily, like he is something greater than he is. I hope he never reads these letters. Our father lives inside a fairy tale of his own making, only I fear he might make it come to fruition.
Vergil told me about his brother, he looked excited. He tried to make it out that he was annoyed and sickened by Dante’’s (as he called him) appearance here, but he smiled a little. We both know that his appearance is a necessary one to complete the ritual, so I’m not sure why he bothered trying to mask his excitement with derision. Anyway, he spoke a lot about himself and his brother. I was surprised; he hadn’t ever opened up like that before, and he even looked wistful as he reminisced. We moved on quickly to discussing literature but in a way I was still learning about him from his picks of favourite books. One thing kind of stood out to me though—not in regards to his tastes of authors or titles, no it was something he said about his brother. I’m not sure if I gave him a very good response as I wasn’t certain what he meant, I didn’t know what to say. What am I to say when he tells me that Dante was the loved child. I was alone, he said.
I told him he wasn’t alone anymore and he laughed at me. So of course I grew to be embarrassed and my big mouth went on and said something along the lines of our father being a miserable table guest, but I will stay by his side if he desires it of me. I don’t think he believed me. Do you think I made a mistake, Mary? Perhaps my morals are spiralling, I am making a friend out of someone intending to bring chaos to this world in search of power. Is that all he’s doing? Is his self preservation so strong that it’ll never be enough for him? What will it take for everyone to be happy? I am not happy, I don’t think I ever will be, Mary. But him? Dante? Those two brothers deserve happiness, not this. I have been in this tower a long time now, what feels like years but I know it’s only been so much as a week. Mary… I cannot imagine being followed, threatened, living with the shadow of death over my shoulder at every junction; these brothers have had to fight every second of their lives to survive. They did not deserve this. And now they must fight. Mary I would sooner throw myself off this tower than aim my sword at you.
Our father has not only torn our family apart, but he is tearing someone else’s too.
I’m sorry Mary. I think I lost sight of my goal here. I want to help that man. I hope he never sees this letter, but Mary, that man is broken and lonely. I do not pity him, he is strong, but he will never find what he is searching for like this. I want to follow him to the end until he realises that everything he is searching for; it never existed. He can have all the power and strength in the world but he will always be alone, I want to open his eyes to this. Have I become corrupt too, Mary? Is that a torture? But he is so stubborn, so focused on this ridiculous goal, it’s going to get him killed. Maybe he is just immature. I don’t know. I just hope that he doesn’t spend his whole life trying to find something that will bring him nothing but pain. Should I try to stop him?
I think I am a hypocrite, Mary.
My father sent me to that man’s bed again. He wasn’t happy. It didn’t go like the first few times, those times where we didn’t know each other, where we were just two bodies—or rather I was just an offering to be taken advantage of. That man grew angered, he scowled at me, told me that I was pathetic. I agreed with him, of course I did. I am so very weak it is insulting. Still, he didn’t tell me to get out. Perhaps he knew I would be punished if father found out I spent the night outside of his chambers. We talked about you, Mary. He read to me some poetry. It was quaint, peaceful, beautiful, almost; like we weren’t in this tower, scheming, using and being used.
I told him that my father was using me to get to him. He…
Mary I am afraid. I am afraid that something in my head has been warped. I should not be looking at this person like I am but I can’t help myself.
He laughed again, a melodious sound I could listen to for decades on repeat. He told me that he was aware from the very beginning, and he let himself fall for it. He said we were both fools, but he won’t linger on me. I am glad. I hope I do not become his hurt when I go. He does not need anymore than he already has. Still… Is this the only way? I fear for him…
I hope he and his brother make amends. I pray that they see eye to eye one day.
It would be nice if I could see it but I don’t hold much hope on that end.
I miss you.
—Yours
Dalia Ann
**/**/19**
It’s almost time.
I am an idiot, Mary. I regret everything. I’m sorry you have such a good for nothing sister like me. Instead of wrapping him around my finger, it was I who fell under his spell; tragically, violently, I fell like the stars at the end of the world. Perhaps the world really is ending, I don’t know—probably won’t know. I’ve been bloodletting for the past day, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Vergil. Father left as soon as he hooked me up to the machine. I can hear Kalina Ann, mother’s most beautiful work of art. It is only right that such a spectacular weapon be dubbed after the most spectacular woman I’ve ever known. Of course, Mary, you are now following in our mother’s footsteps. I cannot tell you how proud I am.
I’m sorry if my handwriting is growing messy, I’m beginning to lose my eyesight a little. I might be meeting with our mother soon.
—Yours
Dalia Ann
**/**/19**
He came back for me.
He doesn’t know it’s my blood he needs. He didn’t ask. He didn’t take it.
The two brothers were having a verbal spat before her eyes. She wanted to shout out to them that it wasn’t more of their blood that the ritual needed, it was her own—that he should slice her palm open too and take what was left. She couldn’t find any strength to speak. Helpless, she watched from the corner of the room, a ragdoll limp against the wall; the brothers fought, clashed blades and scathing words alike. It was frightening but when Mary entered the fray, she damn near thought her heart stopped beating.
“What did you do to my sister!?”
Typically, the sound of Kalina Ann firing would’ve been something that was unusually calming, not now.
“You manipulated my father—!”
Her heart, barely beating, sank to the very depths of hell, the place her father was attempting to bring to this world.
It was all such a blur, everything happened so quickly that her weary eyes couldn’t keep up. More shocking was that she found herself standing up, running, pushing her sister away from the creature their father had become.
So you’ve forsaken your name, maybe I should’ve done the same. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you better, be a better sister. But, at the very least, allow me this one act of selfishness—I just want to protect you, little sister.
Her sister screamed her name, being silenced quickly by a knee to her stomach—that jester, that thing. She couldn’t feel anything, although that was rather normal at this point. Still, it was cold. So, so very cold.
“Destroying the jars of her blood I gathered was a pointless endeavour, Vergil. I didn’t peg you for the type to care, I suppose my daughter did a fantastic job reining you in, despite everything. A good thing is that I have more than the one daughter to sacrifice for this grand purpose.”
The last thing she heard was her sister’s shouts and wails, then there was a peaceful silence. Warmth enveloped her body that felt as if it were floating. There was a fire beneath her skin, not from the wound of being stabbed but from something else, something stronger, gentler.
“This is goodbye for now.”
Her fingers grasped weakly at the echo of a presence by her side, closing limply around the fabric of someone’s coat. Whoever it was she didn’t want to be alone, she didn’t want them to leave—she didn’t want to say goodbye. She didn’t have to, her mind went blank and retreated inside of itself until nothing. Unconscious, but she let him go. She let him go.
17/*8/19**
I heard from Dante you go by Lady now. Seems like you found my letters too, it’s embarrassing but I suppose I did write them to you, they are yours to do with as you please. Though, I hadn’t expected you would share the contents with Dante. That wasn’t really a conversation I expected to have upon seeing him for the first time in a while. I recovered rather well, my injuries are feeling a lot better now and while there is still phantom pain occasionally, I’m completely healthy. Dante helped me out a lot in spite of all of his shortcomings. I owe him my life frankly, his brother too. Still, there is nothing I have right now that I can offer to him in return for everything he’s done for me. I don’t want to keep taking advantage of his kindness, I know that he already struggles with taking care of himself, I don’t want him to feel inclined to take care of me too. I know he said that I can stay as long as I want and not to worry about it, but I worry about him not myself. I used the rest of my money I had saved to pay off some of his debts and to buy food for him but… Unfortunately it won’t last forever.
I’ll be leaving to Fortuna within the next few weeks. I’ll be writing Dante his own letter regarding this news, of course, but I wanted you to be the first to know. I don’t know where you’ve gone but I’m sure you’ll return to this place soon—so your letter will be with Dante. It feels a little rude to tell him not to read his letter before you have but he’ll understand. I’m going to leave half of my wealth with Dante, as much as I know how terrible an idea it is, he has helped me in ways I didn’t know I could be helped. I don’t care what he does with the money, it’s all his now… Is what I would say if I truly didn’t care but I do, and so the money is going away in a private account and will be used only to pay his bills and rent. It should last a good few years.
Lady, my sister, I hope you find happiness in what you have decided on doing. Demon hunting, it sounds dangerous, I hope you stay safe. I think I’m quite rusty with my sword now, I might have to find a normal job. How amusing. I’m excited for it. I can’t wait to start a new life. Though, you’ve probably figured out that I’m not really cleansing my past but rather pursuing it. That man was in Fortuna when we found him… Lady, do you think me strange? I want to learn more about him but he is gone now, so I am following the rotten remains of breadcrumbs. Fortuna is a strange place too, they worship Dante’s father, Sparda, like a deity. I suppose that’s fine but I’m not all that great with religious practices as extreme as theirs. Still, it’s my only lead and in the process maybe I’ll be able to learn more about demons. That way I might be able to help you out too.
Good luck and take care of yourself and Kalina Ann. I will miss you, my dear younger sister.
—Yours
Dalia
It had been a good few months since Dalia left Devil May Cry. Her absence, while not greatly obvious at first due to how quiet she was, became a glaring truth in light of all the mess that began to pile up. Still, that was fairly normal for Dante and so while he did miss the girl’s face and company, he was content knowing that she was pursuing her own dreams. They’d remain friends even with the distance, nothing would change the connection all three of them share.
He received his first letter from her on the day of her departure, only he had to read it after Lady had received hers. No big deal, Lady showed up a couple days later so he wasn’t kept in the dark for long. She continued to send letters over the next few weeks, detailing her experiences and that she is well and settling into her new home.
What was strange was hearing her voice over the phone.
Dante initially picked up the receiver confidently, the practised introduction of his new company’s name rolling off his tongue smoothly.
“Dante,” whispered her voice on the other side, shaky, like she was troubled by something. Hearing her distress, he sat up in his chair.
“Hey Lia, you good? Are you in trouble or something?” There was somewhat of a shuffle and the flip of pages turning which perplexed him.
“Um, no—I don’t… I’m not, but… Quick question?”
“Shoot,” he said, breathing out all of the tension. It wasn’t serious then, great. He reclined back into his chair.
“Have you ever been to Fortuna before?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Can’t say that I have, no.”
There was a long silence on the other end, the sound of papers being sifted through was the only thing telling him she was still on the line.
“Okay… So, I think he has a child.”
A lot of things ran through his mind upon hearing that. He. Who was he? There was only one he it could be, realistically. So then what, a child? The reasonable thought process, from what little he knew, was to assume it was unborn in her stomach. An understandable anger coursed through his veins, his grip on the phone was just barely restrained to keep the thing from breaking.
“That piece of shit brother of mine knocked you up!? And he still threw himself into the underworld for his shitty little pursuit of power or whatever? Does he even have a single redeeming feature?” Dante all but growled down the phone, all of a sudden feeling a violent urge to break something.
“Wait—wait! No! Not me! You know as well as I do that’s impossible!” Dalia stammered, raising her voice in panic as if she could feel Dante’s growing ire through the phone. “It’s not mine—he, he’s not mine. But… I can’t mistake the feeling I got when I saw him. I'm sure there are better ways to ascertain his legitimacy, but he looks exactly like both of you.”
Dante took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, repeating twice until he was somewhat distracted from his frustrations.
“Right, I guess there’s no real way to tell until I meet the kid…” He paused, a little grateful that she waited for him to continue on his own time. “Lia,” he muttered. “I don’t have any intention to do that, you know. Being involved with me isn’t good for a little kid, don’t tell him about me or that brother of mine… Little guy deserves a normal life. Can you…” He trailed off.
Dalia smiled wistfully, cradling the phone in her hands like it was something precious.
“I intend to become the boy’s caretaker. Don’t worry, I will raise him to be happy. He won’t know anything about you until you come forward yourself, I promise.”
There was a sting in his chest. He shut his eyes and let her smooth voice wash over him, calming the uprising anger in his heart if only for a moment.
“Thanks, Lia. You’re far too good for my brother, for any of us, of this.” The words hurt him to say out loud, they scratched at his eyes. When she laughed it was like entering a dream he didn’t want to wake up from.
“You flatter me, but we both know the truth.” He didn’t think their truths were the same. “I’m just doing what I can to atone for everything I did wrong.”
He wanted to argue with her, tell her that selling her humanity to a devil in order to protect her sister was nothing short of honourable, that there was nothing to atone for. She had done what she sought out to do, Lady was safe, happy. But—it was obvious that there was more to it. She was so self critical, she probably blamed herself for his own wounds, for Vergil falling off the deep end, for her father’s deviancy right until the end.
“None of that was your fault Lia, you know that. There’s nothing for you to atone for,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Frustrating as it was to hear her continue to pile all of these responsibilities on herself, he wanted to help her see the truth of the matter.
It was quiet for a while.
“I couldn’t save him, Dante. I wasn’t able to stop him from running headfirst to his death,” she explained with a weak voice, burdened slightly by oncoming tears. “I thought it would be okay at first. He would reach his goal and realise that it didn’t give him anything but emptiness, but I underestimated everything. I should’ve tried to convince him earlier.”
Dante shook his head in spite of the fact that she couldn’t see him.
“Listen, it’s not your fault. That guy? He was already determined. Not even a year of lectures would’ve changed his mind. You did what you could. I’m sure he was happy for the short time he was with you. And you need to move on, focus on that kid now. Let bygones be bygones.” At a certain point he wasn’t sure when the line blurred, he started to think he was more so talking to himself than her.
“I know that you’re right, Dante. I know you are but my heart just can’t forget about it.”
“You don’t have to forget anything, remember it but don’t be tied down by him. C’mon now, you can’t be all broody when you’re looking after a kid, they’ll take after you.” He decided to lighten the mood slightly with a bad joke, a diversion to steer her mind away from all the things troubling it.
She laughed, a bell chime of a sound that had him brightening up too. Relief flooded his system.
“Thank you again. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for all the kindness you show me. I’m so glad I ended up meeting you, Dante.”
He was tempted to cut in and mention that little account she had set up with money to cover his rent for the next few years, but was incredibly glad he didn’t. The words she spoke were like silk, a sweet sound to his ears, but to his heart they were agonising. He’d been stabbed by a fair amount of things in that tower but those words probably hurt the most. He balled a fist and didn’t bat an eyelid at the trail of blood running down his wrist, dripping onto his desk. Partially worried about the white knuckled grip he had on the phone, of which was starting to make dangerous noises, he cleared his throat and kept his voice steady.
“You don’t need to repay me for anything, just be happy. That’s all I can ask of you Lia. Stay safe out there too, okay? Fortuna’s a hefty distance, I’m afraid your knight in shining armour will take a while to get to you if you find yourself in a pickle.”
“Yes, yes. I’ll be careful—” He smiled unknowingly at the same time she did. “ —And I’ll be happy, Dante. I promise. So you have to be happy too, okay?”
He wasn’t counting on it being easy, but since when has anything been smooth sailing in his life? Since she asked, he might as well try.
“Yeah, I will. Don’t you have a baby to coddle?”
“He isn’t old enough for me to adopt him yet, but you’re right I should probably try volunteering… I hope he likes me,” She explained, fretting that the child might be able to read her past or something and find out that she’s done bad things.
“He’ll like you. If he’s got our blood, he’ll like you. Trust me.”
“You think so?”
He could tell she wasn’t convinced.
“I know so, hell, who’d ever hate you when there’s so much to love?” He grinned, basking in the sound of her chuckles. “Don’t worry about it, you’ll be fine.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time.”
He scoffed and took a fleeting glance around the emptiness of his office. Even on a good day he barely got any jobs, he had nothing but free time.
“I wouldn’t worry about that. Besides—” He cut himself short, tempted to speak the words he knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t. “It’s you who’s busy, don’t let me keep you from the kid.” Relishing in the sound of her muted laughter, the sound telling him she was smiling—he could see it, the slither of her teeth poking through her lips. “Make sure you keep in touch, maybe even visit sometimes; you’re always welcome here Lia.”
“Thank you, Dante.”
“Don’t mention it. We’ll talk again soon, ‘kay? See’ya, Lia.”
“Good, I miss you and Lady greatly. Until next time then, goodbye.”
At the sound of the line cutting and the drone of the phone, Dante groaned and threw his head back. He ignored the crunch of the phone in his hand, idly noting to buy another next time he went out. Dragging his palm over his face, it did nothing to soothe his scowl nor the flame of ire brewing inside of him. In the black behind his eyes he could see her face, so he tried keeping his eyes open, but even that didn’t work as he saw her everytime he blinked. Glancing at the body of the phone, he gritted his teeth and thought he might as well follow through. It took less than a second for his fist to plummet down into the box, crushing all of the mechanics inside and rendering it utterly incapable of repair. Spying a whiskey bottle at his feet, he decided it would be another one of those nights.
Practically black out on his sofa, he wondered idly when she’d come to visit.