Sparda stood in contemplative silence on the library balcony, hands folded behind his back, peering down into the courtyard. Despite the cold, hard rain, his twin boys battled one another in mock duels, their wooden swords madly clacking. He knew these battles were not merely sword practice. His brow creased as he observed their movements. Dante fought wild and heavy-handed, finding fun in the fight, unafraid of pain. Vergil used precision and elegance, delivering blows that may one day slash into other dimensions, driven to triumph. At six years old, they demonstrated an enormous amount of power, power inherited from their demon father.
A father far too absent.
Sparda closed his eyes and focused his senses on the grunts and whacks of his combative boys. A few drops of rain stung his cheek. Ten years ago he never thought of becoming a father, never thought of fatherhood itself. For centuries it was nothing but blood and violence. Hell. Overthrowing Mundus, ending his dishonorably savage rule, and then sealing away the underworld had been his motivating obsessions. Once that lifelong crusade had been accomplished, he had found life suddenly empty and aimless.
"Sparda? Are you all right?"
Until Eva.
The tension flowed out of his body at the softness of her voice. He turned and smiled at his wife. "I'm studying their improvement."
Eva joined him on the balcony, slipping an arm through his. "Relentless," she said, full of motherly pride. "Just like their father."
Sparda sighed, his wide shoulders sagging. "I'm a shit father."
"Oh, love, don't say that," Eva said.
"Sometimes I—" He clenched his jaw, afraid to finish that thought, a thought that had been gnawing at him for quite some time.
"What is it?" she gently pressed, stroking his arm.
"I love our boys, Eva," he said, his words drifting on a confused sadness.
Their eyes met, and Eva's heart clenched to see her husband so troubled. "I know you do."
Sparda's brow wrinkled under the weight of…fear. "Sometimes I wonder if the demonic nature I gave them will cause naught but hardship for them."
"Everyone has their burdens to bear," she said, giving him a reassuring smile.
"They're unlike all other boys," Sparda continued. "To others they are monsters, capable of…terrible, horrific things. For I am capable of such things…" His voice trailed away as his thoughts darkened into decades of nightmarish campaigns and terrifying beasts and worse deeds only Hell could conjure.
"Sparda—"
"I have done atrocious, disgusting things, Eva," he confessed, his lip curling, "but to think that my children may come to do the same…"
Eva put a hand to his cheek. "You assume what may never be."
"Why did we have children?" he blurted. The words were touched by a strange, puzzled anger.
Eva's hand recoiled and her face contorted in shock and bewilderment. Far below, Dante and Vergil kept fighting. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The rain kept falling.
"Are you saying our boys are…mistakes?" she asked, refusing to believe such a ridiculous idea. "We both wanted children. You were so happy when I told you I was pregnant. Deliriously happy."
"We never weighed the cost, Eva," Sparda said earnestly. "I've cursed them, given them this nature that will brand them as outcasts and fiends in the eyes of others." His hand clenched, and he shook his head. "They do not deserve that!" In a growl of a whisper, he added, "And I hate myself for it."
"Sweet devil mine," Eva soothed. With tender hands she turned his face, and they gazed at one another. "You prove your love for our boys with those words. You're a good father."
"Not good enough," he muttered. His lips pursed, and gathering tears shone in his eyes. "I'm ashamed." His attention returned to his dueling sons.
"Too slow, Dante!" Vergil taunted, lifting his chin in lethal vanity.
"Whatever," Dante spat, climbing to his feet. "You can't beat me."
"Say that after you win, if you can," Vergil sneered.
Both boys set their fighting stances. Dante's was solid, tall and sure. Vergil's was wide, low and exact. Their wooden blades clacked again and again.
"I fear for them," Sparda said. "When I sealed the barrier between this world and the underworld most of my power was lost. Now I want to protect my boys but have not enough strength to do so. Foolish humans invite demons to leak through the weak points of the barrier, and therefore it steals precious time I should be spending with Dante and Vergil. With you." Vengeance boiled beneath his words.
"Sparda, my love, listen to me," Eva gently pleaded. "Would it not be best to explain to them what you do and why you must do it? Perhaps if they knew you were a demon—"
"No, Eva," Sparda quickly rebutted, like a burst of flame. "I will not burden them with the truth until they are old enough to fully understand."
Eva sighed. It was an old argument. "And if their devils should trigger before you feel they are ready?"
He ran his hands over her waist and rested his forehead against hers. "I do what I must to protect you and our sons. Whatever that might come to mean. That alone is my motivation."
"I know," Eva whispered.
Sparda kissed her, gentle and sweet, confounding logic. The legendary dark knight, warrior of the underworld, slayer of thousands, blood bather, executioner, savior of mankind, made weak in the knees and capable of love by one beautiful human woman.
Another kiss. Eva pressed into him, running her hands over his broad chest. He enveloped her in his arms and poured fire into her as he intensified every kiss thereafter. In their enthusiasm, Sparda's monocle fell from his eye. It dangled forgotten on its chain.
Sparda raked his curled fingers down past her back. Eva giggled and squirmed. Playfully, she slapped his chest and chided, "Behave yourself outside the bedroom, you sly devil."
His dimpled grin was indeed cunning, impish, making Eva blush. "You make it difficult sometimes."
She rolled her eyes. "Feeling better now? No more foolish talk of shame and monsters?"
Sparda ruminated a moment more. "The notion haunts me still."
The mood darkened again, like the churning of storm clouds. "You're leaving tonight, aren't you?"
Sparda nodded. Still he held her close. He loathed to let her go, to leave her lonely in the night when his work kept him from warming her.
"Is the job far?"
"Fortuna."
"Again?" She let a little frustration slip.
"I am convinced that the source of the demon leak is there," he said. "I will put an end to it."
"Be careful," she urged him, caressing his cheek.
He nodded. "You needn't worry."
Her hands ran affectionately down his arms. He did not yet let go of her. They gazed at one another as if it were the final time.
"I'll be back in a few days," Sparda promised her, and kissed the corner of her mouth.
"Don't stay longer than you must," she insisted gravely.
He smiled, love gleaming in his bright blue eyes. "I always hurry to return to you, Eva."
Her smile glittered. "I know."