Vergil had always known, since he was a child, that he was different. The most obvious fact being that no human had naturally silver hair, not unless they were old and greying. He could also see demons that other people could not, though he’d had the sense to stop mentioning it after the first few times. Instead, he started to expand his knowledge and to look for information to try to explain why he was different. He taught himself how to hack, because so much information was now stored in electronic databases.
He had also known that he was incomplete. It was just an instinct, but he felt it with certainty. And he was convinced that it had to do with his own past of which there was virtually nothing that he remembered of it. The explanation that a car crash had left him with amnesia had somehow never felt right. So he’d dug, and dug and dug, until the flashbacks started and they eventually led him to Paradise Mansion… his old home.
There, in the ruins of the mansion, he remembered. Not everything, but more than enough.
Mother died, though he had not personally witnessed it. He had listened to Father when he had been told to hide and keep away from danger. But Dante, his elder twin brother, hadn’t. Dante had gone in the opposite direction, to find Mother, despite his protests that Dante too should listen to Father and that they should stay together.
They had always accomplished more when they were together.
Mother had died, and then Father had separated them. Wiped their memories of each other and family to protect them.
To this day, Vergil wasn’t sure whether he thought Father had done the right thing, and it was probably the only thing he doubted his father about.
Because he was sure that his sense of incompleteness did not stem merely from not knowing his past, but that a greater part of that came from not being beside Dante. Because in all the memories he had recovered, there was not one, save for those of that fateful day, that he hadn’t been beside his brother.
Since the day he regained his memories, he devoted his time to searching for his twin and finding out more about the demon who’d had Mother murdered. To his frustration, he accomplished the latter first, found out more about Mundus and his hidden empire than he did about his elusive elder sibling. He never gave up his search (he would die before giving up), but at the same time, he meticulously plotted Mundus’ fall and how he and his twin would rise to guardianship over humanity.
Dante and him, they were Nephilim, beings born of the unlikely union of Hell and Heaven. They didn’t belong with either side, nor with humanity… unless it was to take care of them, as angels used to do. Demons and angels were ancient, compared to humans. Humanity was young, in their infancy and they would need much guidance if they were to stand at all. Vergil planned with hope in his heart as he searched relentlessly for his brother, and he was confident that Dante would stand by him.
Because they were family. Because they were twins. Because there were no others like them.
That certainty cost him.
He could’ve handled Dante’s refusal to stand alongside him and rule over the humans. He could even rationalize the fight that occurred between him and his twin, because as children, they’d fought as a method to show their affections and there never had been any hard feelings about it in the end.
What he hadn’t been able to handle, understand or do anything about was the feeling of Rebellion piercing through him, was seeing Dante’s merciless expression as he forced Rebellion deeper, not even relenting even when Vergil was on the ground and helpless to defend himself.
Dante had showed no hesitation in cutting him down, in wanting to put him away forever.
In that moment, Vergil comprehended the meaning of “heartbreak”.
In the end, he hadn’t died on Dante’s sword, but for all intents and purposes, he had. Dante had not stopped willingly, had not given their familial bond any consideration. And even though his brother had helped him up, the damage had since been done and Dante’s declaration cum warning only served to drive the point home further.
Vergil had spent the better part of his life trying to find his twin brother, trying to become complete and he thought that he’d managed it when Dante walked into The Order’s headquarters that fateful day. Only to realize that while he’d always felt that something was missing, it was clearly only on his part if Dante could so unflinchingly attempt to kill him.
There was no meaning in staying with his brother, not anymore. Though a part of him railed wildly against walking away from his other half, Vergil just could not stay. But he could not resist a parting shot, hoping that it would wound.
“I loved you, brother.”
It was a lie. Dante was better with physical weapons; Vergil was better with words.
He still loved his brother, and probably always would in some capacity. But he knew better than to bare his heart again, knew better to have childlike devotion and unconditional love to any being again. Even if that being was supposed to be his other half, the only other person who should understand him, the only other person who should love him with no questions asked.
So he left, using Yamato to create a portal to return to his old home, feeling his energy and life leave him with every step he took. Wondering what had he done that was so wrong that his own twin brother wanted to kill him.
Then, he died and fell into Hell.
It was a revelation.
He had tried to embrace the angelic half of his heritage, tried out being good and compassionate in freeing mankind from demonic rule so that they could prosper under a benevolent dictatorship. But that had all backfired spectacularly on him, leading him down into Hell instead. So all he had left now was to embrace the demonic half of his heritage.
Mother did not approve, but Mother was an angel, she would not understand and she hadn’t seen. Hadn’t seen her beloved Dante all Triggered out and completely intent on finishing the job. On finishing off Vergil.
Mother wouldn’t have believed him even if he’d told her how he’d received the wound that sent him into Hell.
It was liberating to be unfettered, to be unbound by rules and morality. It was even more freeing to have power, have strength… and he could perhaps understand why Dante hadn’t bothered to try with him. Because he was weak, because toppling Mundus had required an almost disproportionate amount of work on Dante’s part, because Vergil had been a burden.
So he would become stronger, more powerful, just become more. He would show Dante. And if he had to lose pesky things like kindness and camaraderie in the process…
Well, they hadn’t served him well anyway.
He was in the main room of the ruined Paradise Mansion, sitting on a high-backed chair, one of the few articles of furniture that had survived the years, when Dante appeared. Vergil smiled.
“Hello, big brother. Would you like to know what I’ve been up to while I waited for you?”