Warning: A character is briefly kissed without consent

Lady Viviana ran her fingers down Vergil’s chest, leaving them atop his abdomen. "I had a dream you’d come seek me out."

Vergil took her hand in his and brought her knuckles to his lips, "I suppose my heartfelt wish upon the stars for you to be thinking of me was granted."

A flush crawled up her high cheekbones. She tucked her blonde hair behind her ear, her diamond stud earrings glinted under the candlelit chandelier.

When Ethan left that morning, the day after Vergil found the painting, he tagged along with him. He made the excuse of a planned meeting with a maid. Ethan had given him a dirty look but otherwise said nothing. Had Vergil said he was going to meet with Viviana, he was afraid he would knock him out into next week. His brother owned a heavy fist, he knew that from personal experience. He shuddered at the memory. A small drunken question about whether the pigs liked him so much because he was one of them, and he had the opportunity to learn how sturdy the wooden pen was with his own body.

Vergil had to keep from laughing at the memory. Ethan acted all meek and gentlemanly but he could be mean. It was why, growing up, their father often had him take on all the chores himself as punishment. It got to the point it was expected of him. He grumbled and complained about it, but would get prissy if Vergil tried to help and something was a little off. Now, Ethan was too busy to do everything and it felt like nothing was good enough. 

It wasn’t entirely Ethan at fault when he got into trouble at home, Bren knew how to get him worked up without being caught. Helped to be the little daughter that daddy was so fond of. Outside of home? Honestly, the other kids often started the fights. That hadn’t been an issue in some time though. Ethan built himself up into a brick wall and no one dared mess with him, well, besides his brothers.

Vergil lost the tingle of amusement when he thought about the tension that had grown between the three of them over the years. He wished he knew how to mend their relationship. 

Nearly the moment he had arrived at the palace, Viviana found him. He had been dragged behind the nearest staircase and pushed against a wall.

"I‘ve had nothing in my head besides you," she leaned in close to his ear and whispered.

That’s depressing. He thought he'd said it in his head, until she pulled back and looked at him embarrassed. "You’re much too beautiful a woman to only be thinking of a man like me." Years of being around women made him quick with his words and it was well learned as proof of Viviana’s girlish giggle. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

He didn’t know her well, but he assumed she had much more important things to be thinking of. Work, hobbies, passions, friends; the singing of the birds in the morning, the rustle of the trees, the feeling of her breath. An encouragement to keep going, because one day, things will get better. One day he will stop turning to drink when he was happy, when he was sad, when he was angry, to stop drinking instead of crying. Or more likely crying while drinking; women were drawn to that pitiful side of him, probably because it was funny to them.

Vergil was certainly not the sort of man a woman should be thinking of when he wasn’t directly in her line of sight.

"I like listening to you talk. You have such a beautiful voice."

"Really? You don’t have to say more, I’ll talk as much as you desire. More than you’d want," he gave his most charming grin, the one that made women swoon. At the ball, Princess Amalia had stared at his smile like it’d personally offended her. It made him grin even wider to see her reaction. Thinking on it now, he couldn’t stop himself from dropping his facade of charm and replace it with a small laugh. Maybe it was more like a childish giggle. 

Remembering himself, he looked back at Viviana. She was staring intently at him. His lips quivered, he was getting himself caught in a hole. He laid a hand on her bicep, slid it down to her elbow, and gently pushed her back, giving himself room to step to her side. "Shall we take a stroll?"

"It would be a pleasure," she slipped her arm around his.

They took their time walking through the palace halls. Leaned against Vergil’s shoulder, Viviana’s eyes glittered up at him. Guilt invaded his consciousness, but he was already in too deep. There wasn’t really a way to tell her the truth without hurting her feelings. That he just came to make certain that the princess was the painting’s artist and that he wanted to meet with her. Or that he wasn’t interested in Viviana.

"I was reminded of you recently," Vergil began. His head felt heavy and hot. "Are you a fan of art?"

Viviana's grip tightened and she lifted her head to look him in the eye, "I've been known to partake in it. Why, are you a fan?" she asked, her voice breathy.

"I do have a particular interest in paintings."

She became excitable, pressed into him, and moved her face close to his, "You've seen it? I'm amazed you recognized me."

He placed his hand on her chin, fingers resting against her cheek. He rubbed her beauty mark with his thumb, "You're difficult to forget."

"Just from that," there was a soft amazement in her voice as she laid her hand on top of his.

"I am curious, who-"

Before he could ask the question about the identity of the artist, she pushed her lips against his. For a brief moment, it rattled his brain. The kiss was only for a second, however, it was more than enough for him to realize his mistake. There was a soft flush against her skin, her blonde eyelashes lowered and fluttered.

He needed to leave now. Sometimes his own insecurities caused him to forget how much women were drawn to him and to what degree. He didn’t want to hurt her, but while he knew how to flirt, everything else was complicated. If a normal man would politely turn a woman down, Vergil would instead runaway. Partially to avoid responsibility, and partially because he was an awkward idiot.

"I apologize, but it would seem that my morning tea is starting to go through me. I hate to bother a lady with this, but If you would be so kind to introduce me to the gentleman’s room."

She pulled back slightly, not enough to let go, "No need to feel embarrassed." She rubbed his arm up and down, "I'll show you the way." Her voice was an octave higher.

How timeless, being treated as if he were a child. It was something that Vergil had learned to smile through, as he was now. He was so tired of it though, everything. Sometimes he fantasized about letting go, airing out their dad's secrets and about their actual financial situation, then run off. Away. Maybe he could pick up a trade in designing women's shoes. That would be nice. But he couldn't ever abandon his family. Certainly couldn't destroy their blissful ignorance.

Viviana led him in front of a door and gestured toward it. "Here we are."

"Thank you," he kissed the back of her hand then disappeared into the restroom. His purpose was a hopeful getaway through a window he'd crossed his fingers was there. It was. Now, suddenly disappearing without word like an old magician using his one off trick, was incredibly rude. But while he could charm his way out of most anything, even extending old debts, he often didn't think things through and if the opportunity afforded itself to run away, he took it.

He pushed open the window and pulled himself up onto the windowsill. Well, of course, it had to lead straight into the yard the knights were training in. For a moment, he was entranced by the spirit his brother put into swinging his practice sword, driving back his opponent causing them to struggle. "Woah," he said to himself. It was as if Ethan was made for knighthood. He felt the swoosh of pride in his heart, his head felt warm with joy, and a smile forced itself across his lips.

No time for that, he bit his lip. He slid discretely out of the window, holding onto the sill while dangling his feet until they touched solid ground, without a sound. Quickly, quietly, he moved away from visibility. Embarrassingly, he couldn't say he was inexperienced with sneaking out of windows. Whether it was from male relatives or husbands, or his own mother, he'd mastered the window escape. Slowly, while not appearing suspicious if he did get caught, he made his way opposite the field and through an archway back into the castle.

From what Ethan had mentioned of his seeing Princess Amalia, this was the area she frequented. Though he said she was often busy with her work being groomed as heir, Vergil knew personally how long it'd have taken to paint such an intricate portrait. She must often take breaks in order to unwind, bathing herself in the smell of paints, and gliding across the canvas with a precise hand. It'd been some time since Vergil had painted, and the imagery of the princess hiding away in her studio creating vibrant colors with her paintbrush made him feel the heat of desire rising in him. He wandered the halls, listening to the click clacking echo of his shoes on the linoleum.

A few guards stopped him with questions, he smiled in response and explained he was appreciating the beautiful structure of the palace. It wasn't entirely a lie, it was lovely to look at. While civilians were allowed to come and go through the palace in the day, those like him who were alone and seemed to have no purpose (like stopping by for lunch with one of the servants) were regarded with caution. Of course, there were restricted areas and one certainly couldn't just ask to see the royal family and expect to be allowed visitation on short notice. That was unfortunate and why Vergil had wanted Viviana to set up a meeting, but nothing could be done about that now.

Would you look at that. There Viviana was now, she'd caught up while he was searching. He hid behind a corner. She had a look that could kill; her skirt was bunched up in her hands with a grip so tight he wouldn’t be surprised if it tore the fabric. With a hand on the arm of a guard, she stopped her, the guard looked over her shoulder and in Vergil’s direction. That guard had just stopped Vergil a minute ago.

He slid against the wall as fast as possible back the way he came toward the door he’d passed. It’d been locked so he ignored it. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He pulled out the pins holding back his hair and fit them into the lock. It wasn't something to be proud of, but with the way he lived his life he had learned to pick a lock or two. The lock clicked and, again, while he shouldn't feel pride welling inside him, he did. He slipped inside and closed the door before Viviana rounded the corner.

Darkness blinded him until he closed his eyes for a minute. When he opened them he saw the outline of objects spread across the floor and up against the walls. Carefully, he moved around them to reach the window which he pulled the curtains from. The scenery outside that window made him take in a breath. From this viewpoint he could see the entire city below. The rise and fall of the buildings, people milling about as small as ants, then the expanse of woods surrounding it. His house was somewhere beyond those woods, on a small stretch of land that he’d been fighting so hard to keep hold of.

Vergil turned and was met with almost the same view hung on the wall. It was the city and the woods, in the messy, wobbling style of a child’s hand. But beyond the woods was his home. Three child figures ran around with goats and two adult figures held hands as they watched over the children. Tears welled up as he reached up and touched a finger to the father. They had plenty of family portraits of them posing in ways that their mother positioned them, nothing like this

"I was going to call the guards on you."

Vergil spun on his heels toward the door. Princess Amalia was leaned against it, hands behind her.