O Fortuna (Vergil x Reader - Devil May Cry)

ii.

Warnings: Unbetaed work. English is not my native language. Sexual content. OoC. Power imbalance. Misogyny. The views depicted in this story in no way represent the author's ideas in real life. If you don't feel comfortable with the topics of this fic, please, abstain from reading any further or commenting. You've been warned.

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Chapter II

"I bemoan the wounds of Fortune

With weeping eyes,

For the gifts she made me

She perversely takes away." [1]

What little bravery was left in you began to fade, the more you lingered in solitude and dwelled in the none too bright prospect that lay before you. All kinds of uncertain thoughts assailed your mind without any mercy, and it became more difficult to keep serene as time went by.

Your only solace at the moment was that, at least, Clara and Amelia had managed to escape. You prayed that they would reach the safety of the citadel in time, and that they wouldn't be captured again. Still, you wondered if it would even make a difference— all things considered. Did you really do something good for them, or could it be that you had only prolonged their suffering? Well, be that as it may, you couldn't remain with arms crossed knowing that these monsters would hurt them if they remained here.

These women weren't to blame for your predicament. It had been your choice to stay behind, yours alone, and regardless of what happened you wouldn't regret what you'd done.

Still, you couldn't say you were very happy about this situation. There wasn't much you could do to change it, either way; except hoping that this man, if you could call him that, would give you a swift death.

You were too tired to think about it, however, and nearly passed out from exhaustion after so many distressing events and emotions lived in one day. Sleeping wasn't some you wanted to do, in a moment like this, but your eyelids were heavy and your head was spinning. Perhaps, if you were lucky, you would never wake up again.

In the distance, you heard the rustle of the flaps of the tent being parted— followed by heavy footsteps and the clank of armor. Jumping in fear at the unexpected intrusion, you watched a dark monster approach through the haze of your weary mind and knew that your time had come.

What would it be? A slow painful death, or the mercy of a sweet passing? Somehow, you doubted it would be the latter but one could only dream...

Without a word to spare, he made his way into his temporary accommodations and completely ignored you— as though you were some kind of mutt that wasn't worth a single glance. He didn't seem to consider you were that important to begin with and, somehow, that bothered you for reasons you couldn't quite explain. Maybe it made you feel painfully aware of the fact that you were a nobody in this place.

In silence he began to remove his dark purple cape, in which there was some strange and macabre figure embroidered with threads of silver. It looked like some sort of skeletal shape with naked and bony wings— most likely a reference to the angel of death, though you weren't certain of that. In all honesty, you didn't even want to know.

The proximity of this man was unnerving, and perhaps it wasn't such a bad idea that he disregarded you. If you pretended not to be there, would he forget about you?

"What's your name?"

It appeared that he had finally taken notice of your presence, or remembered that you existed.