Beauty and the Beast | Vergil Sparda x reader

Chapter One - Sacrifice

Originally written 6/10/19 - Rewritten 6/11/21

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It all started when you were eleven.

Those growls, echoing from the trees and into the deepest parts of those who dwelled nearest in Capulet. You knew how far they were, but it was all so visceral. Father promised that they would eventually stop, but weeks turned into months, those months into years. And eventually they were no more threatening than a lullaby.

To you at least.

With age and responsibility, you began to judge those older than you for continuing to cower. Continuing to pray to a silent god to make the growling go away. But with maturity. You learned that the true fear they felt was from the child within them fearing the dark and unknown. Nothing to fear, but nothing to judge.

In recent months, it has only gotten louder, more restless sounding. Like the beast is ready to break free. Ready to prowl.

The nobles of Capulet, disobeying what the king has said, made their decision on how to deal with the growing fear. Everyone knew a decision took place, but for weeks nobody had a word to what was decided. The streets were filled with chatter, and the spread of gossip and lies like a thick black sludge. And then there was nothing.

An awful eerie silence, streaked full of fear and grief. It hung over everything like a thick fog, hazy and unwelcome.

Until this last weekend, there was so much chatter that it seemed too fake. Too normal. Those who came to the bakery for their normal orders seemed unusually kind, like they were saying their dues to a dying man. You tried not to think too much into it, they acted like this when Father passed too.

As you cleaned up for the night, a familiar young face poked into the window. You grabbed the bag you had for her before hustling to the door. A young girl, of 14, family worked in the noble's stables. You didn't know her name, or you hers, but you knew what she needed.

"Aye, good to see you, it's been a good while. Here, that rosemary bread your mum likes, four loaves. I know she just had her third child, tell her to rest up for me ye-" he grabs your hands, pulling you close, you just now see the panic in her face. "Ma'am no, you need to go, leave Capulet. Your brother, send him a letter then run. Now."

The bag of bread falls to your feet and into the wooden porch. Her eyes brim with tears, her darker skin lacked it's undertones. She looked sickly and ashin.

She looks around, lowering her voice. "The noble, Montague, he- he-" Her name was shouted by a man, her father. He rushes up, pulling her back by the back of her skirt and grabbing the bag of bread. "Sorry Ma'am, thank you so much for the bread. I apologize for my child, she's been rather sick, dastardly fever. Good night."

They storm away through the snow, he lowers his head and whispers into her ear. You stand watching them, eyes wide in horror.

That bothered you, even into this night. You've been working alone, exhaustion bleeds into every cell in your body. But you could not sleep. Was that really the ranting of a fever sick young girl, or was that a real warning you should've heeded?

Send a letter to your brother? Absolutely not. No, you are still mad at him. What he has done is unforgivable, you will not be contacting him. Ever.

Well into the night, as the moon shifts in the sky, you feel yourself start to drift off. The fingers of sleep lowering you in. That is, until the sound of the front door crashing open causes you to shoot straight up. It's surprisingly silent afterwards, so you slowly slip out of bed and down the stairs.