Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry.

I've wanted to do a Dante/Nevan epic for a long time, so… here we go. I wrote the first D/N on I wish more people would write it. This is the prologue, Nevan backstory.

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In the tower, she'd had little to do but think.

There was a vast library, but she read everything, even the dreadfully boring things, within a century, though there were some things she returned to. The sorcerers who had built the tower hoping Mundus would make them gods had done their research well, searching through tales for the truth of power.

Her mother, Hecate was here, her father who they called Hades, his mistress Persephone (the fools thought she was the true wife? Ha!).

Just stories, that was all that was left of her parents. She wasn't mentioned.

Stories and her memories.

Once she had been a bat, one of the lesser spawn that fluttered around her mother as she flew through hell and the mortal world, wreaking havoc in her husband's name.

She'd been the strongest, fighting the others, and she'd been chosen to become not just a demon, but a devil.

Then there had been the nest, she and Alastor fighting off the other nestlings, for only the strong deserved to survive. If they were weak it would disgrace their parents.

Weak demons and humans tossed in the nest, and they would hunt them as well as the ever-present souls.

Waiting for their parents to visit: to be picked up, a kind word and a nuzzle was all they wanted.

Hades and his realm were listed among the fallen. Those who had unwisely chosen to oppose Mundus when he announced his plans for the human world they had roamed, bestowed their blessings on.

Nevan would have liked to read of battles they had fought, but humans knew nothing of the wars in hell. Simply that one day the prayers and sacrifices stopped being answered.

They had been taken out of the nest and given to demons to train some time ago. They both learned to fight, of course, but Nevan was taught to weave songs while Alastor was given extra training with the sword.

She was female, it was her destiny to be mated to some other god in an alliance. She needed to be strong to be chosen by a mate, but she would never be the strongest. She would have to use her other talents.

It rankled, that Alastor would surpass her when she'd been the one to guard him in the nest.

Tonight, though, she would learn a new thing. She craved it, knowledge was power.

She stood behind her mother as the portal opened, carefully reviewing her human form.

Watching the mortals as they bowed to the Queen of Witches, the one who gave them power. Feeling the heady flow of their worship, everything the humans had given over to them along with the death of a young male human.

She was given the soul of the sacrifice for being impressive, as she should be. They had loved her, as the weak should love the strong. It had been… intoxicating.

Beowulf was the ranking officer, but he had no need of her services. He wouldn't have anything to do with a lowly succubus.

Agni and Rudra were too young, and the Doppelganger had no urges.

She was relieved.

Fighting in the palace, the nursery broken into. They fought but were defeated.

Dragged before Mundus along with the rest of the spoils: by custom stronger than iron they served the one who had vanquished them. Alastor to join the warriors, herself… she was beautiful, and knew humans.

If that had been all… to win their worship.

If only that had been all.

There were many young knights in Mundus' army, who had joined an equally young prince. They wanted. But they didn't want a mate.

In some tomes she was mentioned, diaries of sorcerers. She had been sent to seduce them to Mundus' cause. In their eyes she was a goddess, and she brought them into hell to kneel before the new god, the god of all.

She liked humans. She was stronger than them. They did what she wanted, begged to.

She'd learned quickly not to beg mercy of devils.

The best defense was to seem to want it. Make it a game, welcome them. Otherwise one attracted the ones that liked it rough, liked rape. The ones that killed her bats, little siblings, to increase her rage, hate and terror so they could feed on it.

Eventually she became useful, too useful to let someone torture her badly enough she would be unable to serve Mundus in the human world. The first time that had happened Sparda had torn apart the one who had deprived him of an agent.

She'd given him her thanks. Looked forward to it, as she rarely had. Some of the others… young knights cared less for custom. Young knights were malleable. Young knights might take even a succubus to mate, if she had a good bloodline and was pleasing. By this point she was very pleasing. He'd asked her to sing to him.

She'd hoped…

Foolish little demon. No room for hope in Mundus' hell. When he'd destroyed the Elysian Fields her father had created for the souls that had pleased him to torture them as well.

The great Sparda would never have mated someone who'd been taken by half the knights in Mundus' army (after a while they fought over who went with her: eventually they let her choose, as she rose to the leadership of the succubi).

Sparda.

He'd defeated her, all the inhabitants of the tower had been roused to oppose him. But he hadn't worn her down, taken her devil arm, merely placed a binding spell on her in passing.

He'd never given her his time unless she was useful.

With a human, one of their white mages by his side she'd figured out what he was doing.

She'd wanted to join him, but until she was bested Mundus was her lord and master. She'd wished she could betray as Sparda had. She didn't have the strength. Few did.

What, she mused, was Sparda up to now? Had he become Emperor? Were they forgotten here, him too busy to break the seal and defeat Mundus' last servants?

Or had too many been outraged at a traitor daring to take the throne? Had he been killed?

He'd been… kind. A condescending kindness, but…

If it weren't for Mundus they might have been mates. He was strong and beautiful.

Once she was freed… she would be useful. She knew humans, knew how to be a god. She sung, and once she got someone young and impressionable to mate with her they wouldn't be able to deny her anything.

Then the tower had risen.

She'd gone outside, heard music coming from a place with drink. One of Dionysius' temples? She'd stalked in, hell prides escorting her, and saw the things that made music. Ordered them brought back with her and played with them.

She'd waited in her lair, the succubi quarters. All the others had been gone, to serve at Mundus' celebration in hell.

And finally, he'd come.

She'd made a proper entrance to entrance him, hopefully. "Welcome, sir. Is this your first time here?" Sparda's scent? So he had opened the tower to give his nestlings a real test? She'd scented another, twins? And part human?

Sparda had mated a human! After barely giving her a second glance?

"Yeah it is. You'll be nice to me, won't you?" Grinning as he sized her up.

"Of course I will." Circling like a shark, they both knew what was coming. She had to fight him, she still served Mundus. But once he'd defeated her, and he was certainly strong enough, strong and handsome… "I'll treat you so nicely," if she had the chance, "You'll never want to leave." A little laugh, and he smiled.

"Now that's what I'm talking about." And his sword was such a symbol for something else potentially long and hard. Not just good looks. A sense of humor that matched her own.

And she stalked away, hips swaying, tested her powers (didn't want to be rusty and weak, not when this was her big chance), and beckoned him to her, "Then, come on, Sugar." He wasn't insulted by the pet name, she had taken a risk giving it but he was just so cute.

During the whole battle she managed to keep her hair in place. She didn't want to seem too easy. She moaned, turned the battle to foreplay. She had to hand it to him, he was professional about defeating her, never distracted.

When she drained him, it was divine.

He was strangely untrained. "Are you sure you're a Sparda?" she taunted, because he had power but wasn't using it well. Relying on some strange weapons that her bats could easily block.

He caught her when she fell. How gentlemanly. "My, you're sweet." She pounced, tried to drain him again, and this time that weapon worked.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Cocky. She liked him.

She really did. He was young, somehow innocent. He tasted pure.

Humans worshipped her. It made him feel safe somehow. And of course he would be gentlemanly, Sparda's spawn.

"All right," she yielded, like she'd wanted to do the whole time. "Your father was a handsome devil," she grasped his chin to look at him, "but you're no slouch yourself." Her hand drifted lower, watching his face.

Not the proper time, he still had the tower to subdue. Afterwards. He'd want to celebrate his victory.

He was amazed at the sight of what she chose to transform into, simple joy, and his hands on her… he sang, and it was raw and powerful. She sang with him, summoned the roar of a crowd at the end, as he fell back, lying there like that had been the best moment of his life, better than sex, the shadow that seemed to hover over him lifted, and she was grateful she'd dared Beowulf's wrath by leaving the tower, because he would be grateful for this.

He was: he carried her with him, not using her all the time, but… and then he fought his Twin.

She hadn't quite understood what was going on between them. Sparda had given the key to humans, Dante (she had learned his name now, at least), didn't care about his father and his legacy… something was very wrong.

By the end of the night she'd learned what.

Dante as well had lost his parents. He was so young, as old as he looked in human years, not the four centuries at least she had guessed.

The new her, the hard her, smiled wickedly.

Growing up alone… he would not have learned devil customs. He would not know how low she had been made.

Losing his twin, losing his parents so young… he would need companionship. He was vulnerable. He would need help, to defeat Mundus. Help training, at least, she could do that. Have him call her out, to fight against her. They would talk, and she could wrap him around her fingers.

All of it would have been practice.

Joke with him, sing with him, and she could have what she was supposed to have had.

Young, innocent, and trainable.

The human was foolish, she'd turned him down. Not a concern. And even if they did make up, humans died. No way this one would agree to become a god if she would not even bed one. Fool. To reject such devotion?

Well, her trash was Nevan's treasure. And Dante would be hers.

Her way to avenge her family (and Sparda) on Mundus. Her mate.

Sparda may have turned her down, but his son… though he hated demons now. So much pain, what would he do for the one who eased it? The one who gave him pleasures of the flesh and of the mind, made him laugh? She had time. As long as she could keep him alive, he would be hers eventually.

Beautiful boy, so naïve despite everything. She liked that. He'd caught her when she'd fallen. He'd loved the result.

They'd play, and he'd never want to let her go.

Poor boy. It would all be good for him, she'd be good for him. Everything they both wanted. So lonely. The both of them, even though she had her bats, the few she could keep from being taken to serve as cannon fodder, like the Bloodgoyles and the Plasmas and… Mundus would die.

And she'd sing him down into the dark.