Beauty and the Beast | Vergil Sparda x reader

Chapter 23 - a home

The halls echo with the shadows of laughter. The sounds of wood being slammed against each other and taunts being thrown bounces off of every painting and wall. Gentle reprimands that float like petals on the wind, smooth the soul to a calm. This castle was a shadow of a home.

All of the life had been drained out and replaced with misery. The walls ached for the warmth they once held, and the man who lived here once ached for it too. His large hands gently run down your back as your consciousness fades in and out. He'd found his warmth, his reason to walk the halls and ignore how they groaned. And she was falling asleep on his chest.

No, it wasn't the same. But in a way, it's better.

You didn't seem to ignore it though, you knew. You knew that the whole building shuddered with pain, in your recent waking hours you have taken to making it feel warm. Full of love. Well, you did that with only your presence, but somehow you'd found a way to make to linger after you'd left the room.
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With your entire body, you pull down on the rope. Hoisting up the expensively heavy curtain. With the split of the rich fabric the hall lit up with the golden glow of sunlight. Your scarred arm aches with every pull, but you refused to yield. Quickly, you tie the rope to the wall. Only 114 left to go...

You turn, seeing the clawed up paintings illuminated for the very first time. To any person, the deep gashes would be terrifying. Only proof of a ghastly beast. But you, you knew the pain behind every mark. But not the reason, some of these painting didn't even depict him. Maybe, he was just trying to forget the life he lost.
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Water flows from the pitcher into the large glass vase in the center of the dining table. The flowers you'd picked out brought a while new life and brightness to the room. It tied the wholesome atmosphere together. The vibrancy lit up against the candle chandelier. The maid watering them teeters drastically on the stool she stand on.

Some how the flowers didn't even match to the brightness of the laugh that left your chest as you asked the poor woman if she was okay. Of course she was, but you couldn't go without asking. You cared to show decency to those who couldn't even wish to match your grace. But then again, months ago you were just like them.

You agree with Vergil, the flowers are nice. The ones that you take in the sweet perfume of as your chest heaves, turning your tear filled and bleary eyes to the bedside table. The assortment of colors look like a smeared painting, beautiful none the less. They still seemed to hold their beauty in the light of a dwindling candle.

Their aroma is sweet and restful, compared to the smell of mint and burning wood that radiated from your lover.

Your gaze only breaks at the sudden weight on the bed, Vergil leans over you, a wet linen cloth in his hands. It's almost comical, how small it looks compared to his massive paw. As well as, compared to his earlier roughness, how gentle and embarrassed he is while wiping the thick, sticky streaks of white from your stomach and thighs.
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Opening curtains and bringing flowers, however, only does so much. It's a distraction, a way to try and make it look alive. But it doesn't feel alive. As of recent he'd been more quiet, and no amount of your reassurance made it okay. The resurfacing of those memories had bright with it the truth about his fear.

The reason he's so nervous and stiff with you, why he'd gotten so upset with himself after seeing the deep claw marks he'd given you after you'd been.... intimate.

And when you'd been attacked by the rose. While the maid and Arkham bandaged the wounds, in your pain you reached out for him. Desperately needing any semblance of comfort while you writhed. He'd always felt your magnetism, always something special about you. So in that moment he'd wanted to to something to calm you.

But the smell that radiated from you, it made him hungry. It made him sick. He had to stay away. Devils love blood, that isn't just a joke or a throw away. There's a good amount of demonic power rooted in the usage of human blood.

When he awoke to the lingering smell, and those gashes on your hips. He couldn't help but fear. It isn't just hurting you he fears, but that he'll once again loose himself... and you'll be just like that person. The one who had attacked him in his own room. That your blood would fill his mouth and calm any hunger he had.

That he'd be able to to see inside you and the heart that once beat for him, would no longer be in your chest. But down his throat.

He comes to bed late, despite your begging for him to join you. Or forcing yourself to stay with him so he can't shove himself away. But here he finds himself, crawling into bed next to your sleeping form. He adores you, being around you, but as of recent these thoughts have plagued him. The possible future where you end up his next meal terrifies him.

His eyes are cast on the ceiling, the same visions running through his head. Until he feels a weight on his stomach, you lean over him with a sweet smile. "Hello my love." You say gently, one of his hands coming to rest on your thigh. "You've been so distant lately. Want to tell me why?" He grunts and clears his throat, obviously not expecting this late in the night.

"I shouldn't have to plague you with the problems I-" "but I want you too. I asked you to let me take care of you. What good am I if I just bring up problems and let you close in on yourself again?" He sits up, you squeak as he holds you up, looking deep into your eyes. "You are plenty good outside of just being mine. You should not constrained to being just that."

You play with the lapels on his shirt, a sigh leaving your lips. "But I caused this, didn't I? I should at least try to help." His annoyance with you persistence grows. "You've done enough, I don't need you finding out more of the terrible things that dim this place." You sigh, pushing away from him. "Then help me make it brighter."

"I know that I can't possibly make it go away. Scrubbing only get rid of dirt, not shadows. So help me. Help me make this a brighter place, somewhere pleasant to exist." Your hand comes to gently rest over his, thumb rubbing the rough flesh. "How could I possibly do that? How could I aid in such pure intentions." The wheels in your head turn. "Well, you can first start by being at least a bit kinder to those who aren't me."

He huffs. "If the servants don't respect-" "this is not respect, respect is mutual. They fear you." His eyes leave you and yours fall to his chest as an idea creeps up on you. "And... maybe one day. Weather soon or years from now we could have a family." His entire body jolts, eyes wide, now completely fixated on you. "A... child?"

You smile, feeling a deep warmth at the idea. "Yes, we could have a child of our own."

His hand gently embraces yours, pulling it to his face and pressing his mouth to the soft flesh. "Yes, lets."
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1,301 words
Sorry this took so long.