Beauty and the Beast | Vergil Sparda x reader

Chapter 16 - a poem

Usually when you were to take his hand, as soon as the two of you exited whatever room your hands would releaseone another. However, this time you made sure they didn't. When Vergil tried, you held onto his index and middle fingers, like a child holding onto and adults. Which led to him once again encapsulating yours in his.

It's really was a pleasant feeling.

Holding his hand.

The inside of the massive appendage protected your gentle hand from the armor and scails that surrounded it. The palm was soft, but leathery. Like leather that had been taken well care of, just like the rest of his body it radiated a pleasant warmth. Your small smile beams through the halls, happy you were able to make him hold your hand for longer then a minute.

There was a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. And the uncertainty of weither I was over the room he was about to show you, or just holding your hand again, was killing him. Your hand was so small compared to his, it fit perfectly. Like the head of a rose resting in his palm.

Any gentleman, when taking a lady's hand, should place a gentle kiss on her knuckles. But he fears the exposed maw of almost needle like teeth would feel unpleasant on your skin. So, all he could do was hold it and hope you didn't realize that the hand the hold yours is deeply stained with greed and human blood.

He wasn't going to back out of this, you somehow have ingrained yourself in his thoughts, in his arms. Your existence is now important to him, and he wants to share the other things he deems important to you. You. You. You. Your kindness had gotten you this far into him, neither it's you noticing his pain and cramping wings... or your lack of fear.

Deep inside. He cares about you.

The clacking of worn shoes coming from an opposing direction. Arkham turned the corner and opened his mouth to speak, but was shut up my the growl the emitted from Vergils throat. This was yours and his moment, no one was going to ruin it.

As you both come to a stop soors similar to the dens come into veiw. His hand let's of of yours, and unwanted and unfriendly cold rushed over yours. A reminder that he no longer held you. He slips a key from his pocket, opening them. The key itself was probably as long as your finger, but in his hand looked small. Like he could snap it easily.

The doors creak open with the sentiment of not being opened in years. You take a few steps forward, peering in under his arm. Dust coated everything in sight, no one really had been in here for years. Slipping past him you take in everything around you, it looked like his den. Fire place, comfortable armchairs, inately beautiful bookshelves. But it was different.

Everything as a small aura of femininity to it, as well as the lack of books scattering the floor. Tapestrys didnt decorate the walls, in fact... on the floor in between the chairs and the hearth was an unfinished tapestry. With the same beautiful style as the others, but it was half finished. Kneeling in front of it, your hand runs over the fabric taking in the story it tried to tell.

Your gaze shot back to his farm in the doorway. "Vergil, wha-what is this place." Moving from the doorway, he drags the tips of his fingers through the dust on one of the bookshelves. "I thought that the other den was, well, I didnt want you to continue with being surrounded by demon heads, my fathers trophies, and my own laps in... cleaning."

His fathers trophies... this must be his mothers den. "So this is where your mother would..." he only hums. There are racks on the walls built for holding tapestry. "You couldnt stand to be in here... so you took her work out, and put them there. Expect for this one." The embroidered figures with light hair, you can only guess are the twin princes.