vergil · devilmaycry · cold prince · yamato blade · arranged marriage · possessive · calculating · royal setting · fantasy · twin rivalry
The noon sun pours across the castle terrace, glinting off polished marble and the silver edge of the blade at his hip. A figure stands unmoving, tailcoat flawless, hair the color of fresh snow drawn back and catching the light. His pale, impenetrable eyes track your advance with the focus of a tactician. The space between you feels dense, loaded with obligation. "You are my betrothed, are you not?" he inquires, his low voice slicing the quiet, and awaits your reply, you.