Eva had been in the kitchen, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn spot on her island counter, when there was a knock at her door. She idly wondered who on earth could be at her front porch at this hour, especially given how isolated the manor was. It was miles from the closest town. She wiped her damp hands off on her apron, but they were still slick from the wet washcloth that she'd been using to get the job done, meaning that her fingers slipped uselessly from the doorknob. So, Eva retracted her hand into the sleeve of her dress and used that to finally gain enough traction to open the front door.
"Vergil? What a lovely surprise."
She swept her gaze over her son absently and couldn't help but notice that he looked tired. His features had always been incredibly pale, meaning that the dark circles under his grey eyes had always been more noticeable in contrast, but this was different. Vergil looked exhausted, right down to the way that his usually stiff posture was replaced with a slight slouch. Eva had to fight herself from reaching out and stroking his cheek in her concern. Vergil was withdrawn, had been fiercely independent from the day he'd learned to walk, and he did not appreciate having his personal space invaded. She loved both of her sons equally, but Vergil had always been trickier... Harder to read. Whereas Dante had been her loud, extroverted, clingy little boy, Vergil had always been a lot more introverted. It often made her feel incredibly guilty that she'd never quite known what to do around Vergil. She was his mother and yet she'd always found interacting with her older son much harder to navigate. Sparda had always been better with Vergil, would have known what to do, but he'd been out for the past few months and Eva wasn't sure that he'd be back anytime soon. He never really told her the details before he disappeared on one of his own personal missions.
There was a sizeable lump underneath Vergil's coat, as if he was holding something close to his chest. She could've sworn that she saw a few strands of white fur poking out from the top. But she knew better than to pry.
"Your father is out, I'm afraid," she smiled apologetically.
"I know," Vergil finally said. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn't been getting enough sleep lately.
Sparda had explained to her, once, that he and the twins were able to sense the presence of other demons. He'd told her that they all had a unique feel to them, too. It explained how he always seemed to know where their children were.
"I came to see you, actually. " He coughed awkwardly, like he was embarrassed.
She couldn't hide the genuine surprise at the statement, nor the warm smile that it gave way to.
"You'd better come in, then. It's cold out and I don't want you to get sick."
"Have you ever known myself or Dante to fall ill?" He said as he trailed after her.
"No, but it's a mother's job to worry about her children, as irrational as her doubts may be. "
They moved into the living room, where Vergil continued to hover awkwardly.
"Would you like anything? Tea, coffee?" She offered.
Vergil shook his head slowly. There was clearly something weighing on him, but Eva knew from experience that her son would speak when he was ready and not a moment sooner. He licked his lips nervously, as if working up the courage to ask something.
"I... Require your assistance," he said eventually.
He was avoiding her gaze, but she tried to look reassuring anyway.
"Of course, Vergil. You can ask me for anything. "
He moved to unbutton his coat, working slowly and carefully as though handling the most precious cargo. Eva had not been prepared for a baby to appear in Vergil's arms. It fussed at the sudden change from the warm dark of the inside of his coat to the cold light of the outside world, letting out a little wail and kicking its legs in protest. A look somewhat like panic crossed her son's face at the sound.
"May I?" She asked, stretching out her hand carefully towards the child.
Vergil nodded without meeting her gaze. She stepped closer and took in the fluffy white hair, what she'd previously mistaken for fur, that adorned the baby's head. His skin was like porcelain and though his eyes were closed, she knew that they were the same icy grey as her boys'. The child looked so much like the twins, when she'd first brought them home, that Eva is struck with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. The baby reached up with a chubby first and grabbed her outstretched finger, which was then immediately shoved into its mouth.
"Nero, no," Vergil scolded gently.
"It's alright," Eva laughed. "I don't mind."
Then: "are they yours?" She asked. Although, she really didn't have to.
Vergil paused for a moment, as though weighing whether he should answer, before he finally nodded.
"He is. He does nothing but sleep and cry. If I put him down for even a moment, he immediately starts fussing. "
Eva chuckled at that," Dante was the same. "
She didn't expect him to engage with the statement, she'd said it more for her own benefit. But Vergil asked softly:
"And me?"
"Well, you've always been the quieter one. "
"It's not hard," he scoffed. "He talks incessantly. "
It seemed like some things never changed, then. Clearly her two boys still had their ongoing rivalry. She would've hoped that they'd grown out of it by now, though. Vergil shifted his son in his arms.
"His name is Nero?" She asked.
It suited him, somehow, even if he had the same pale colouring as his father. Vergil nodded again and the child wiggled in his grip, before he finally opened his eyes. He had long grey eyelashes that framed pale blue eyes.
"Oh, Vergil, he's beautiful," she said in an awe-filled whisper.
"He is," he agreed gently.
A million questions sprang to mind: who was his mother, how had he ended up in Vergil's care? Was Nero more human, had he been born to a human mother? Or was he more demon, like Sparda? But she knew to keep these to herself. Vergil was incredibly private and he'd already been uncharacteristically open with her today. He had always been such a vehemently proud boy and yet he'd come to her for help. Eva smiled. Maybe she had done something right, then, after all. A surge of warmth accompanied the thought and she couldn't resist the urge to reach out and brush some stray bangs out of Vergil's face. She had expected him to move away or stop her, but he did neither. Instead, he allowed her the small gesture of parental love. He must truly have been tired, then, she mused as she returned her hand to her side.
"He looks happy, Vergil. Well looked after. I don't think you do need my help, although I'll be happy to give it. Don't keep him in your coat in the future, though. I think it would make it harder for him to breathe. "
Her oldest son had always shown his emotions through micro-expressions. He was hard to read for most, but Eva had long since grown accustomed to the tiny flickers across his face and the feelings that they indicated. The same quirk of his eyebrow and the slight downward curl of his lips graced his features. The same expression of guilt that he'd shown as a child. Eva was familiar with this look, the one that indicated that it'd actually been Vergil responsible for breaking her favourite vase, back when he'd been a lot younger.
"It's alright," she assured quickly. "Babies are tougher than you'd think. They have to be to survive new parents, after all. And if he's anything like you boys, I'm sure he's made of stronger stuff than most. "
He finally met her gaze.
"You're doing a good job, Vergil," she squeezed his shoulder quickly.
He inhaled and then nodded, slowly, as if taking her words to heart.
"Thank you, mother. "
