Chapter Text
"I'm going to throw up," Nero said.
"No, you aren't." Vergil continued adjusting his son's blue tie. Every time Nero moved, he somehow sent it askew. It seemed Nero would never learn to tie one himself with the proper precision, but today, Vergil didn't mind fixing it.
"I am," Nero insisted. "Probably all over her. She'll hate me. Credo will refuse to let me marry her…"
Dante snickered, and Vergil shot a look at his brother sprawled across the oversized armchair in the corner. He'd thrown himself into it the moment they were sent to the room, ignoring the fact he was supposed to be helping his nephew get ready.
"She won't. And he won't," Vergil said. "And you won't. It's just nerves. This is normal." It was. He'd read about this.
"She deserves better than me," Nero muttered.
Heaving a put-upon sigh, Vergil stepped back and stared at the man he would always think of as his sweet little boy. Few things grated his nerves as much as hearing his son speak poorly of himself. "So, you don't want to marry her now?"
"Of course I do!" Nero cried. "I just--"
"You love her, don't you?"
Nero's eyes dropped to the carpet and a blush stained his cheeks. "Yeah, I do. So much."
"Then it's settled. You are getting married today, and you'll be happy." Vergil outright glared at Dante who finally had the good grace to hide his laughter behind his fist. He hadn't expected to spend so much effort wrangling everyone involved on the groom's side of the wedding. Then again, considering those they counted as family, he should've known that would be the case.
"Look, I just--" Nero started.
Vergil flung his hands into the air. "I will carry you to that altar if I must!"
Even if his son had pretended not to hear the whispered barbs aimed at him by the Fortunans watching them enter the church earlier, Vergil knew how sensitive his son's hearing was. It didn't matter that Kyrie would never believe the rumors they spread if it affected Nero so badly, and Vergil would be damned before he let their vicious words tear his boy's good heart in two. Those infuriating little insects didn't deserve--
He spotted Trish poking her head into the room. " You talk to him," Vergil demanded. Maybe his son would listen better to his aunt than his father.
She studied Nero, eyebrows raised, for a long moment.
"Kyrie is ready," was all Trish said and shut the door behind her.
Doubling over, Nero gulped in air, alarmingly close to real panic. "I can't do this. This isn't… I'm not… What if I…?"
Dante slithered off the chair and came to stand next to the heaving groom. "Stop thinking so much." And Nero tipped his head to look at his uncle out of the corner of his eye. "Just think about Kyrie. That's all that matters today, right? She'll be waiting for you, and I bet you'd hate to disappoint her."
Straightening up, Nero took another breath in and held it for a few seconds. He exhaled slowly and slipped into that soppy grin he only got when thinking about his future wife. "You're right. Thanks. Both of you."
"Are we done panicking?" Vergil said, and Nero let out a little laugh. "Good. I'm going to need that brandy at the reception after all this."
***
Credo tried to be as stealthy as he could while dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief. The ceremony had been less flashy than many people expected for the sister of the former Supreme General of the Order of the Sword, but it was what Kyrie wanted. She looked absolutely resplendent in the modern white dress she picked out from a thrift store on the mainland and embellished with little beads and ribbons stitched by her own skilled hands. Nero matched her so perfectly in his suit and tie too. Yes. Perfect was the word for them both.
If he wasn't careful, Credo would really start crying and completely embarrass his baby sister.
Glancing around the reception venue, he noted yet again that very few of the people here were those he considered close friends. It was one of the curses of living on an island. Most of the guests were former colleagues who just assumed they would be invited to the wedding and showed up without asking.
The groom's side was the opposite. Nico, Lady, Trish, Patty, and Mr. Morrison formed a motley but genuinely joyful crew that clearly loved the young man they'd claimed as family. Dante had taken over a table and insisted on making cocktails since he felt the lack of a bartender was a crime, and Vergil blithely accepted congratulations from people he clearly thought were friends of Kyrie's. Credo doubted he'd spare them a breath otherwise.
Kyrie, for her part, was being remarkably tolerant. The Fortunans insisted on handling an event that deliberately deviated from tradition using as many traditions as they could muster up. She smiled gamely at what had to be the eighth fertility charm someone's wife handed to her while Nero puzzled over the Sparda statuette passed to him. Having a tiny graven image of one's grandfather as a wedding present would probably feel strange. It was… a bit hilarious when you knew the truth of it all.
A glass tumbler appeared in his vision. "I think you need this more than I," Vergil said, and Credo gratefully took it.
"I should've listened to Nero and just had a small party back at the house," Credo sighed. He sipped the expensive brandy one of the wealthiest of the former knights had brought to impress him.
"I was under the impression that your cohorts would've been slighted if you didn't hold this event for them."
"Yes, but I could live with that." Especially if it had gotten them out of this awkward shindig. Even the live music was stilted and stuffy. None of this suited the bride and groom they were supposed to be celebrating.
Vergil shrugged, though his eyes darted around the room like he was keeping watch for anyone waiting to ambush him. "It's only a few hours, and Kyrie said she would prefer not to cause you any more issues."
More issues. Credo took a larger swig of his alcohol. The other issues for his Fortunan compatriots being all Nero related, of course. Very, very few of them were aware of what transpired during the fall of the old Order, and none of them knew the whole truth of the young man they reluctantly toasted. Not that it mattered to Kyrie, of course, and that was what mattered to Credo.
She looked so damned happy. He smiled in what had to be an unforgivably sappy way.
"Ah, Credo! This is where you've been hiding!"
He held in a sigh and turned to face the man addressing him. "Hardly hiding, Castor. Just letting the younger generation enjoy themselves without me underfoot."
"Hah! As if you aren't part of that younger generation," Castor said. The good cheer was all false, Credo knew it from the comment. Castor had been his senior as a knight and high on the list of potential candidates for becoming the next Supreme General before Sanctus selected Credo. The decision had more to do with Credo's successful Ascension than anything else, but Castor didn't know that and always resented being passed over.
He was hardly the only one.
Castor looked expectantly at Vergil who gave him the most aloof blink Credo had ever seen. "Where are my manners?" Credo said quickly, "This is Vergil Redgrave, Nero's father. Vergil, this is Castor Regio, former Holy Knight Executive."
"Aaah," Castor drawled. "So that strapping young lad is yours. I never would've guessed," he joked, gesturing to Vergil's silvery hair.
Vergil's smile was all teeth, and Credo tried not to cringe. "Indeed," Vergil said. "What good fortune that my dear son married such a remarkable young lady."
"Oh, quite right! Perhaps there's still some hope for him yet, despite everything."
The patrician tilt of Vergil's head should've been a warning. "And what, precisely, does that mean?"
Castor only hesitated out of faux politeness. "I mean no offense of course, but he is a heathen after all, and dear Kyrie is as true a believer as any I've met. Such a devoted adherent of our great Savior, that girl."
Vergil blinked again, slow and menacing, and Credo drained his brandy in one gulp. He should stop this, really he should, but the irony was almost too much to wrap his head around. Imagine saying that with a straight face to Sparda's son.
"I find very little to be offended about," Vergil said, "considering."
The comment confused Castor, and Credo held his breath wondering if Vergil was going to reveal the family secret that would send all of Fortuna reeling. If it weren't for the fact it directly involved Kyrie, Credo might've even rooted for it. But this wasn't his choice to make.
Vergil just smiled a flat, knowing smile.
"Well, anyway," Castor continued, nettled by Vergil's coyness, "I suppose there isn't much to be done about it anyway. There's very little controlling women once they have a whim and a handsome face to chase after."
Credo set his tumbler down with a ' clack.'
"Kyrie has never needed controlling," he said carefully. "She's far more wise than I."
"Oh, you don't need to hide it. I'm sure you're a little disappointed. She had so many appropriate suitors, like Sagan and Tonio, but of course she went for the outsider. Girls can be so contrary. I'm just glad my dear little Sophia--"
"Nero has supported Kyrie in every way since they were children, something I can't say for those others," Credo snapped. He was losing his cool over nothing, and he didn't know why. The crackling demonic energy he usually kept locked away resonated with something and built faster than he could get a handle on it. "I am proud to have him as my brother-in-law."
Castor sniffed, completely ignoring Vergil now. "Please. That boy couldn't possibly understand. He isn't a part of our history, of our religion. Even if he converts, he will never truly know what is to devote himself to the Savior and sacrifice for the good of our people."
Credo grit his teeth. The man was trying to get under his skin, nothing more. But, by all that's holy, Credo really wanted to--
"Kyrie married below her station, and there's no way that won't affect your standing too," Castor said, lilting his tone in what was likely meant to be read as sympathy. "If you're lucky, he'll divorce her early like those mainlanders are wont to do so she won't be stuck with a bunch of ill-bred brats to care for. I'm sure someone will be willing to take a sullied bride as long as she--"
The CRACK echoed before Credo felt the throb in his knuckles. Castor skidded across the polished tiles into the space set aside for the dance floor and almost made former-Cardinal Lastra fall over. The old man had been doing his level best to follow the steps of some line-dance Nico was teaching him and looked utterly shocked.
Oh.
Oh no.
Credo stared in horror at Castor flailing around in an attempt to right himself. Oh hells, he had finally done it. And during Kyrie's wedding reception of all times. This was a nightmare! He would never live this down!
Vergil burst into full-throated, cackling laughter next to him, and Credo realized just what had been plucking his demonic nerves. The son of Sparda practically vibrated in sadistic glee, waves of his own devilish energy spilling out.
Nero looked from Castor to Credo to his father before slapping a hand over his face. Everyone else gawped at the fallen former knight and the surely embarrassed bride -- who watched for a moment and raised her eyebrows at her brother.
"Y-you…! I can't believe--!" Castor sputtered, staggering to his feet. At least that was going to be an impressive black eye in the morning, Credo thought. "How dare you!"
"How dare you," Kyrie said coldly, surprising everyone. "I'm sure you believed my brother would restrain himself the way he usually does, but to insult not only my husband, but my husband's family on our wedding day? I have never seen behavior so dishonorable. You truly have no shame, sir."
Oh, she'd been listening in…
Well, then.
Castor might've said something in his red-faced defense if Dante hadn't clamped a hand on the man's shoulder. "Why don't we take this outside?" he said. "Just go cool off before you upset the kids any more."
For all his jovial, relaxed nature, Credo had to admit Dante worried him more than his older brother. Vergil had a predictable nature. Dante… not quite so much. The white haired man, suit sleeves rolled up and tie discarded, steered Castor out of the room as if the man's resistance meant nothing at all.
In her infinite grace, Kyrie smiled at the remaining guests. "My apologies for the disruption, but I hope you will join us for the Castigation of the Evil Spirits to bless our union. I would be so grateful to all of you."
"This oughta be good," Credo heard Lady mutter to Trish who smirked in amusement.
Of all the customs for Kyrie to decide to participate in, Credo couldn't imagine why she'd agreed to that one. But the Fortunan guests quickly forgot about the chaos in their eagerness to join the happy couple in the antiquated cleansing ritual.
Vergil glanced at Credo. "Are you feeling better now that you have that out of your system?"
"I am so sorry," Credo said sincerely. "I don't know what came over me." Which wasn't true, but pointing out Vergil carried any of the blame would not only be rude but a horrible abdication of responsibility.
The half-devil waved his hand in dismissal. "Please. You saved his life. If you hadn't struck him, I would've slit his throat for such an insult against my lovely new daughter."
Credo hesitated, wondering if he should just accept that as a joke for sanity's sake. "That's… very gracious of you."
"Something was bound to happen," Vergil said. "Though I had odds on someone stabbing my brother instead. He has a history of such happenings when he attends a party."
"Perhaps it's good I lost you that bet, then." Credo relaxed a bit now that everything seemed to be smoothing over. There would be fallout among the former knights, many of whom believed Credo had betrayed them by distancing himself from their old traditions, but he would deal with that as it came. "I suppose you're right that we got off lightly in terms of things that could've gone wrong."
"I was so sure there would be at least one demon attack." Vergil said disappointedly.
What a strange family his sister had married into. Credo found himself smiling at the thought of how odd the world had to be for him to count the Dark Knight's sons and grandson as in-laws.
Vergil offered him a fresh tumbler of brandy that he picked up off a tray. "Care for another after all that?"
Credo paused and accepted it. "Why the hell not?" he declared.
If there was one thing he'd learned from Sparda's family, it was to roll with the bumps that fate threw their way. The church never taught that, and the more he got to know Sparda's kin, the more Credo realized just how far the Order had strayed from the Dark Knight's true path. The will that Dante, Vergil, and Nero had inherited was far greater than Sanctus' pale imitation.
Credo lifted his drink toward his companion. "May we realize what is most precious in our lives and always strive to be worthy of it."
The half-devil's grin gentled in a way that Credo had never seen before, and he raised his glass high. "Yes. May we always work together for them."
"To family."
"To family!"