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English
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Part 3 of Vesuvius: Feral Dante Collection
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Published:
2025-07-12
Words:
851
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
18
Kudos:
110
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1,059

Red King

Summary:

Vergil reforms. Dante has long since fallen apart. Nero's not here.

 

“You always left me for power,” the creature says, “So I thought—lemme see what all the fuss is about.”

Notes:

It's not made clear because, uh, oh well? But the setting is the chamber where Vergil reforms. Just without Nero. HE'S NOT DEAD BTW JUST IN A COMA WE GOOD

Anyway props to Lydia the Bard for her Villain Princess series. It's *chef's kiss* for Feral Dante content. The one that inspired this is animated by lazyeule and it's WONDERFUL pun intended

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Send kind regards,
Drop the façade,
Everyone hear my vow:
I’ll embrace this … crown,
I only paint in red now!

Lydia the Bard, “I Only Paint in Red Now”

Vergil slams into being with claws around his neck. His heart has been salvaged from a volcano, only to be thrown into another.

He gasps for air, for memory.

The Qliphoth. Yes, he, or whatever half had clawed back to the Underworld, had succeeded. Had eaten the fruit, embraced its power. Then—

Then.

Laughter. Buoyant and sinister as Loki himself.

Fire. Everywhere, everywhen, never lost anything did I

There was another half. He’d—

A head of white, yellowed teeth, but two days old, huh

what a fun name you picked for your monster

no time like the present

follow me

The same claws around a much more fragile throat. Yanking, tossing, boot on his chest, something is wrong something is very very wrong what happened to you Da—

“Welcome back,” the fire hisses, “Vergil.”

Vergil is released, but only so he can see. An igneous being with four wings, membranes like V’s contracts. Horns meant to gut, mouth meant to glut.

Human skin appears, but it barely hides it. Lava flows instead of veins. Charcoal-cracked lips stretch into fangs.

“You always left me for power,” the creature says, “So I thought—lemme see what all the fuss is about.”

He wiggles his finger at his forehead. A rotten crown screeches into being, a circlet of Qliphoth branches sprouting horns that curve down and out.

“Gotta tell ya, big brother,” Dante drawls, “I’m not impressed.”

Vergil can only prop himself on his elbows before a boot slams on his gut. Dante has the audacity to laugh at his bared teeth.

Dante puts his hands on his hips and tilts his head, and for a moment, his image is blurred over a child’s playful gloating. Ignited eyes devour it.

“You never learn, Vergil.” Dante tuts. “Every time you go against me, I match you. I beat you.” He crouches until their faces are inches apart. “Of course, this time I let you raise another tower. It gets boring, y’know, and when I felt your tiny spark—I just had to see what you’d do.”

Vergil doesn’t let his face twitch. “You allowed me to tear your son’s arm off?”

“My so—?”

Dante’s next laugh sounds like screaming. It catapults him back to his feet.

“Aw man, I needed that,” he gasps, wiping his eye. “Vergil…that’s your son.”

Vergil’s gut freezes.

Dante’s lips crackle to his ears. “Yeah, brother. You cut off your son’s arm. You put him in a coma. You took the Overworld’s best protector out of commission.”

Cautiously, Vergil pushes. Dante allows him to sit up. Allows. Vergil’s muscles snarl at the notion.

“I needed the Yamato,” Vergil replies.

Dante huffs. “I’m not surprised, Verge. I’ve learned not to expect anything more from you.”

Vergil rankles. “I would watch your words, little brother.”

“What part of I let you don’t you understand?”

In a sweep of red, a new sword appears in Dante’s hand. Somewhere in its blade is Rebellion’s pulse. And…

“The Sparda,” Vergil murmurs.

“Yamato can separate man from devil,” Dante says, “So I wondered, what about Rebellion? Gave me the boost I needed.”

He taps at his crown again, slower.

And from its center, three red lights ignite.

Vergil’s eyes widen. “Impossible.”

“C’mon, I couldn’t just let ‘im die. Not after all he’s done.” Dante shoulders his sword, free hand waving about. “It’s the perfect joke: Sparda’s son making Mundus his crown.”

The lights writhe, extinguished with Dante’s scoff.

“He knows what’s happening,” Dante continues, strolling about the Qliphoth’s chamber. “I made sure of it. No will of his own. Trapped in a prison of his own making.”

Red eyes snap to Vergil’s. “Sound familiar?”

Vergil’s power surges. “You dare—”

The monster cackles like a corpse. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Vergil! You always say the same stuff.” The little brother smiles, small and sweet. “I did miss it, though. So I hope you don’t mind heading back down.”

Vergil brandishes Yamato.

“Nah, not yet. I gotta show you my castle! There’s a perfect place for a fight. I’ll get a buncha demons in there for a warm up. Stretch your old bones.”

Claws tear into Vergil’s chest.

Dante nuzzles their foreheads as his thumb nuzzles Vergil’s heart. His crown creaks and groans, smothered in a moment.

“I think with you,” Dante murmurs, “I can enjoy the power now.”

Vergil falls to one knee, coughing blood and bile.

“But I can’t have you running off.”

The Qliphoth walls begin to disintegrate. When Vergil looks up, Underworld’s king is silhouetted against the sun, holding his brother’s beating heart.

“You’re not leaving me again, big brother,” Dante declares, eyes and crown gleaming. “If I have to rule for the next thousand years, I will.”

He plunges Vergil’s heart into his own chest. Blood rains on Vergil, seeping into his pores, except there’s nothing there, nothing but what is left of Dante.

Dante holds out his left hand.

Vergil takes it.

Notes:

Mmmmmm the feminine urge to continue this. WhErE's mY mOtIvAtIoN?

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