Chapter Text
Something was deeply wrong. Of this, Eva was certain, even if she couldn’t pinpoint the exact cause just yet.
Eva sipped from the large wooden spoon, face twisting in displeasure as she did so. The taste wasn’t bad, really; it just wasn’t right. She was in the middle of making boeuf bourguignon, a French beef stew that she had made countless times before and should have been an almost brainless task. Just the week before, however, a loud crash had brought Eva into the kitchen to find her Dutch oven’s ceramic enamel splintered like a spider’s web and her young boys fleeing the scene of the crime. Like many things in the house, it was soon replaced with a much steadier version, pure cast iron rather than coated in ceramic. While undeniably nicer than her old pot, the change also, unfortunately, meant needing to slightly recalibrate each of her recipes.
At least the twins had come out of it unscathed, she thought as she took another taste, trying to figure out what was wrong with the soup. Behind her, she heard the patter of small feet approaching.
“Mom?” Dante asked, tugging on the hem of Eva’s skirt to get her attention.
“What is it, mon coeur?” Eva asked, setting down her spoon before scooping her son up. She balanced him on one hip, careful to step away from the scorching pot on the stove. Really, the boys had both gotten too big for Eva to comfortably hold anymore, but she could manage for a short period of time at least. Something as insignificant as a growth spurt and limited arm strength wouldn’t keep her from cuddling her babies.
“When is Dad coming back?” Dante asked, playing with the ends of his mother’s long blonde hair.
“Oh darling,” Eva sighed, reaching a hand up to tuck a stray lock of white hair behind her son’s ear, “your father will be home before you know it. He always is.” It had already been three weeks since anyone in the house had seen the devil. While Sparda had been gone for longer stretches before, and it was quite so long to warrant genuine concern, it was long enough that the entire household was on edge without him.
“Why does he always have to go?” Dante gazed up imploringly at his mother with wide blue eyes. It was a question Eva never knew how to answer, the desire to shield the twins from the world too strong to admit to the atrocities it was capable of. “Why can’t he stay here with us?”
“It’s because people hate us,” a petulant voice called from the doorway. Vergil stood there, arms crossed, mouth set in a firm line, and brows drawn together as if he had practiced how to look as serious as possible.
“But why does that mean he has to go away?” Dante whined.
“ Because,” Vergil rolled his eyes, “he has to go teach the bad people a lesson, which means he has to go find all of them first. Father has to go fight people because we’re too young to. You’re just too much of a baby to understand.”
“I’m not a baby!” Dante wailed, squirming in Eva’s arms.
“Vergil!” Eva reprimanded, trying to keep her grip on her other son. She could barely support Dante when he cooperated, though, and it was only a matter of time before she lost the battle.
“Let me down!” Dante whined, worming his way out of his mother’s grip. Before Eva could stop him, Dante ran over to Vergil, stopping just in front of his brother, hands balled up into little fists at his sides.
“Don’t hit your brother!” Eva called, hurrying over to her children to separate them should it prove necessary.
“I’m not a baby!” Dante said, crossing his arms over his own chest in a reflection of his twin’s posture.
“Yes, you are,” Vergil insisted, rolling his eyes. “That’s why you’re so whiny.”
“Well, if I’m a baby, so are you!” Dante accused.
Vergil gasped, looking offended. “No!”
“Yes!”
“Boys!” Eva raised her voice just barely, but it was enough to bring the argument to an abrupt halt. The twins stiffened and turned in unison to face their mother, neither one quite willing to make eye contact. “You are both big and strong, alright? Neither one of you is a baby, and I don’t want to call each other that again, alright?”
The twins were quiet, with similar displeased, chastened looks coloring their faces.
“I didn’t even say anything bad,” Dante muttered, looking down at the ground, suddenly very interested in the way his foot slid back and forth over the wood of the kitchen floor.
“Dante,” she said, hands on hips and looking between the two, “Vergil, do you two have something to say to each other?”
“Sorry,” the twins both muttered, though neither sounded happy about it.
“Thank you,” Eva said, deciding that a half-hearted apology would do. It wasn’t like they had really been fighting anyway. “Vergil was right about some things, though. Dante, your daddy sometimes has to go on trips to keep us safe, but he will be back soon, okay? ”
“I just wish he wouldn’t leave.”
“Me too, darling,” Eva sighed. “Me too.” Even if she understood and agreed with her husband’s reasons for his trips, it was still difficult to parent the pair of rapidly growing half-demons on her own. Eva clapped her hands, trying to lighten the suddenly sullen mood of the room. “Now! I am still making dinner; why don’t the two of you run upstairs and play in your room, and I will call you when it’s done?”
“But—“ Dante started before being quickly cut off by Vergil.
“Come on, Dante,” Vergil said, dragging his brother away by the sleeve. As stoic as Vergil was, he had always been far more sensitive to anything, even approaching a scolding. Even the slightest displeasure in either of his parents' tones or softest reprimand always made the boy eager to run from the room. At least he didn’t seem truly upset with Dante at the moment. More than anything else in the world, Dante had always been the most reliable thing to cheer up his brother.
Eva smiled, watching them go upstairs; Vergil, as usual, all but dragging his brother behind him. For as much as they argued and complained about each other, the pair were inseparable. It was obvious on Dante’s end—always chasing after his brother, hungry for his attention. The attachment was more subtle in Vergil, who often looked like he was pushing Dante away if one didn’t look closely. Eva saw how Vergil would slow down if Dante was lagging behind, though, and would glance back to ensure Dante was always within arm’s reach. As much as he pretended otherwise, it was obvious that Vergil wanted Dante at his back as much as Dante wanted to follow.
It comforted Eva to know that someday, in the faraway future, when she would have to leave them behind, her sons would always be there for each other. She only hoped that they wouldn’t become too dependent on each other. They should have room to grow as people and support systems for each other.
After the twins disappeared up the stairs, Eva turned back to the stove.
More wine, she decided, reaching for the open bottle of Pinot Noir and pouring a generous amount into the stew; everything is better with a little more wine.
“Why do people hate us?” Dante asked, rifling through the chest of handmade costumes, clothing donated or stolen from their parents’ wardrobes, and other odds and ends the boys had co-oped to play dress up with over the years. Always the careless one, each item deemed unfit for whatever game Dante wanted to play ended up either on the floor next to him or tossed across the room.
“Because they’re stupid,” Vergil said, walking around the room and gathering the items of clothing Dante threw about in his search. Vergil sighed; would his brother ever learn to clean up his own messes? Really, Dante couldn’t do anything without him.
“The whole world can’t be stupid, Vergil.”
“Yes, they can,” Vergil said, grabbing a plastic crown out of the air before it hit him in the face. “And they are. They hate us because we’re different.”
“But different doesn’t mean bad.” Dante scrutinized a large, mostly cream-colored cloth that was stained purple near the hem. Apparently deciding it would do for whatever he was planning, he beckoned Vergil to him.
“It does to them,” Vergil said, stepping close and patiently waiting as Dante tied the cloth around his neck like a cape. Sometimes it was just easier to go along with Dante’s requests rather than fighting them. “Which is part of the reason they’re dumb. Besides, what they think doesn’t matter; you don’t need them. You have me, and I’m better than all the rest of them.”
“But what if you leave and I’m all alone?”
Vergil scoffed at the idea. “That would never happen.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Why would I go anywhere that you can’t go, too?”
“So we’ll always be together?’
“Obviously,” Vergil said, rolling his eyes.
“Good.” Dante pulled out a long white piece of lace, draping it over his own head like a veil. “That means that you have to marry me.”
Vergil frowned at his brother’s nonsensical logic. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yes, it does! It means we’ll be together forever, like mom and dad!”
“I can be with you as your brother.” Vergil rolled his eyes. Dante was always so dramatic. “I don’t have to marry you just to hang out with you.”
“You have to!” Dante insisted, stomping one foot, “Mom told us that both she and Dad have lots of brothers and sisters, but we never see them ! So just because you’re my brother doesn’t mean we’ll always be together.” It was a point Vergil couldn’t argue. Dante was right; though they had heard stories of their extended families, neither twin had ever met anyone related to them that wasn’t each other or their parents.
“Fine,” Vergil agreed.
“Good. That means you have to wear this!” Dante said, excitedly holding out an old waistcoat of their father’s. Vergil sighed, taking the piece of clothing from his brother, and struggled for a moment before managing to put it on under his makeshift cape.
“Now what?” Vergil asked.
“I need something to wear now. Help me look,” Dante tugged Vergil’s sleeve, pulling his brother to the overflowing chest.
Half an hour later, the boys froze in their playing at the sound of a shriek from downstairs and the heavy slam of the front door. Their gazes immediately snapped to each other, eyes holding the same look of recognition. Only one thing could make their mother scream like that.
The twins both broke out in a run, racing toward the door and flying down the hall. In their rush, desperate to get to the door, they almost fell down the stairs.
Vergil just barely got there first—Dante being slightly impeded and slowed by his own costume—and was greeted by the sight he had been waiting to see for weeks. Sparda stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light from outside, the slight form of their mother melting into his looming frame, sheltering her from the world with his arms. Vergil paused for a moment, watching the scene in front of him.
“I’m home, my love,” Vergil heard Sparda whisper in Eva’s ear. Vergil watched his mother turn her head into a slow, sweet kiss.
“Welcome home, mon chéri,” Eva whispered back. Vergil watched his parents, lost in their embrace and in their love for each other. That was, until Dante came barreling past Vergil and toward their parents, practically running headfirst into their father’s legs.
“Daddy!” Dante yelled, clinging to his father’s legs. Eva laughed, stepping back to give her sons space to greet their father as well.
“Well, hello, Dante,” Sparda grinned, patting the boy on his back, “and, of course, Vergil. No need to hide; you can come over here.”
“I wasn’t hiding,” Vergil muttered, stepping out from behind the banister and walking forward. “Welcome back, Father.”
“Thank you, son,” Sparda said.
“Yeah! Welcome back!” Dante let go of his father’s leg to bounce up and down in front of the large man.
“Now, what is this?” Sparda laughed, looking at his sons’ costumes. Dante twirled, eager to show off his outfit. Meanwhile, Vergil crossed his arms across his chest, embarrassed to be caught doing something as childish as playing pretend and dressing up in silly clothing.
“We’re getting married!” Dante exclaimed, almost tripping on the hem of one of Eva’s old sundresses he wore over his usual clothes. He had to repeatedly pull the sleeve back up to keep the white dress from falling off.
“Who’s getting married?” Sparda asked, ruffling both son’s hair.
“Me and Vergil!” Dante giggled.
“It was just pretend,” Vergil said, trying to fix his hair by pushing it back. He truly couldn’t stand having it in his eyes; how Dante tolerated it, he would never understand.
“Nuh-uh!” Dante insisted. “It’s for real!”
“It’s okay, son,” Sparda said, patting Dante on the shoulder. “If Vergil doesn’t want to marry you, I will.”
“No!” Vergil cried, stepping between Dante and their father, arms outstretched for good measure. “You’re married to mom. That’s not fair!”
“That’s right, you’re all mine,” Eva said, going up on tiptoe to press a brief kiss to her husband’s lips.
“You can’t have them both. It’s not fair,” Vergil insisted, glaring up at his father. Of course, Vergil loved and admired Sparda, but something about the way Dante radiated joy at even the chance to see their father upset Vergil.
It wasn’t fair how excited Dante got every time their father came back; he practically worshiped the man while all but forgetting about Vergil. It had always been evident to Vergil that Dante was the favorite son of both of their parents; it wasn’t fair that Vergil didn’t even get to be Dante’s favorite.
“I won’t take him from you,” Sparda said, crouching to be at eye level with his sons.
“Dante is mine,” Vergil reiterated, just to be completely clear.
“I know, I’m sorry for teasing you.” Sparda spread his arms. “Can I have a hug, Vergil?” He asked, waiting for Vergil to make the next move.
Vergil paused momentarily before going to his father, sighing in relief. Finally, Sparda was back, and Vergil could breathe again. He felt so small in his father’s arms but in the best way possible. He felt weak, but that was okay because his father was here, ready to take care of everything once again.
“They don’t like it when you leave,” Vergil muttered into Sparda’s coat. “It makes Dante and mom sad.”
“I know, my boy. I don’t like leaving either. I’m sorry I upset you.”
“I didn’t say I was upset,” Vergil said, face still buried in his father’s clothes. His father was so powerful and could always see straight through him.
“I know,” Sparda said, rubbing his son’s back. “I’m back now, so you don’t have to be the man of the house, okay? I promise you can go back to having fun, and I will take care of everything.”
“Okay,” Vergil said, nodding slowly and pulling away from the older man. “But you still can’t have Dante.”
“I wouldn’t dream of separating the two of you,” Sparda said, straightening up. “Besides, if I tried to take Dante anywhere without you for an extended period of time , I think he might gnaw my arm off in an attempt to get back to his precious big brother.”
“I got sharp teeth, too!” Dante said, his wide grin showing off small baby teeth that Vergil knew from experience were quite sharp, even if they didn’t look it. Dante had waited patiently while Vergil talked with his father, something the older twin was grateful for. Recently, Dante had gotten better at telling when Vergil needed a moment and was pretty good at giving those to him.
“Alright, mes coeurs,” Eva interrupted. “Food is almost ready. You two should go wash up for dinner, and we can hear all about your father’s adventures while we eat.”
“Okay,” the boys intoned, going to the kitchen to wash their hands. However, after they stepped out of the room, Vergil peaked back from behind the door. He watched Sparda sweep Eva off her feet, twirling her around in a full circle, her feet more than a foot off the ground.
“I knew I smelled something delicious , I just thought it was you,” Sparda growled, a smile audible in his voice.
Eve giggled in his arms in a way Vergil only heard his mother do around her husband. “You really have a knack for always returning right when I’ve finished cooking food, don’t you?”
“What can I say?” Sparda said, setting Eva down and tucking a lock of hair behind one ear, “I truly am a lucky man.”
“That you are,” Eva agreed, going up on tiptoe once more to kiss her husband. “Just as lucky as I am to have you.”
Dinner was a joyous affair, as it always was when Sparda returned. He regaled his family with tales of his adventures, earning both of his son’s rapt attention. Deeming it a special night, the twins were allowed to stay up well past their bedtimes. Late that evening, Eva and Sparda sat in their family room, watching as their boys struggled to stay awake on the rug, a coloring book open between them.
Though he had abandoned their father’s waistcoat, Vergil still wore his makeshift cape tied around his neck. It had once been part of their old curtains but had been donated to the boy’s playroom when a cup of grape juice had splashed it, forever staining the once pristine fabric. Neither twin ever admitted to being the one to ruin it, of course, and the mystery remained unsolved to that very day. The cape was now serving halfway as a blanket for the twins, draped over Dante’s shoulders as well, where he lay snuggled against his brother. The twins whispered quietly to themselves, content in each other’s company. Dante’s veil had been abandoned on an armchair, and the shoulder of Eva’s dress had completely slipped off one arm, leaving the button-down shirt he wore underneath visible.
“They missed you, you know?” Eva said in a hushed voice, leaning into her husband on the loveseat and resting her head on his shoulder.
“As I have missed all of you,” Sparda replied, wrapping an arm around Eva and holding her close.
“I know that time passes differently for you, but all this time apart can feel so long for us.”
“Time has felt so strange as of late,” Sparda admitted, turning his head to kiss his wife’s hairline. “When I do not have you all by my side, it has been the first time in my long life that weeks or even days have extended to agonizing lengths. Sometimes, I fear that I will come back, thinking it is only a few weeks and not realizing I have actually been gone for years. That the twins will be full-grown men that I do not know. That I will look into my sons’ faces and see only strangers and they will look back without even a hint of recognition will be sparked within them. Or worse, they see only the man who abandoned them both and have no more need or desire for me in their lives.”
“Oh, mon chéri." Eva sighed, pressing one hand to her husband’s heart. “They could never forget or hate you. They love you too much for that to ever change.”
“Perhaps,” Sparda acquiesced. “How are you all, truly?”
Eva looked at their boys, who were whispering together. Both were huddled over the same page with pastels in their hands, obviously paying their parents no attention.
“I worry about them sometimes,” Eva sighed. “They are both so restless whenever you are gone, even if they express it differently. Where Dante becomes clingy and anxious for attention, Vergil grows more standoffish. He withdraws into himself.”
“Vergil has always been a bit like that, though—taking all the world's responsibility unto himself.”
“Yes, but he just goes so serious, even more so than usual. It’s as if he feels it is his duty to protect us when you’re gone. I know it is because he loves us, but I just want him to be a child. He doesn’t need the weight of the world on him.”
“Perhaps I can talk to him, try to soothe his worries.”
“I think that would do him a lot of good.”
“Otherwise, though?” Sparda asked. “Should I talk to Dante as well?”
“Perhaps.” Eva sighed again. “I don’t always know what to do. They rely on each other so much. Sometimes I worry too much.”
“Too much?”
“They both get so anxious if they are separated, especially when you are gone. I am glad they get along, but it is not fair on them to always expect them to comfort each other.”
“They are close, is that not good?” Sparda asked, not truly understanding his wife’s concerns. “Demon twins have always been known to either be each other’s bitter enemy and final undoing or greatest pillar of support. In a land built on the destruction of others, they can either inhabit all the worst qualities of that world or stand above all else, united in power and trust.”
“Well,” Eva laughed softly, “I think we know which our boys will be. As much as they bicker, I can’t even imagine them ever truly fighting.”
“Let us hope that remains the case,” Sparda leaned down to nuzzle Eva’s neck, pressing a chaste kiss right over a pristine set of teeth marks. Eva leaned into the touch momentarily before shifting her focus to their children.
“Boys,” Eva gently called, getting her sons’ attention. “Time for bed, alright?”
“But I’m not sleepy!” Dante whined right before letting out a long yawn.
“Come now,” Sparda said, pushing off the loveseat and going over to the twins, “if you agree to come up now, I can carry you both upstairs. But if you wait, I might get too tired and won’t be able to manage it.” Dante perked up, clearly excited by the idea, while Vergil narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
“You wouldn’t get tired after only a few minutes,” Vergil pointed out skeptically.
“Are you sure? I’m already feeling my strength draining,” Sparda said, staggering for show.
“Come on, Verg!” Dante said, standing and attempting to tug his brother up with him. “I wanna ride on Dad’s shoulder.”
“You know,” Sparda said, trying his best to keep a grin off his face, “I could always just carry you up if Vergil doesn’t want to come.”
“No!” Vergil stood hurriedly. “If Dante gets to ride, I get one too!”
“Then let’s get you two to bed,” Sparda said, picking up both boys and easily setting one on each shoulder.
“Let’s go!” Dante cried, sounding far more awake than he had moments before.
“First,” Sparda said, heading toward the stairs, “we journey to the bathroom! You both need to brush your teeth, or your mother will have my head.”
Eva watched as Sparda carried the boys upstairs, the twins pulling at their father’s hair for balance. Sparda was so tall that he had to be careful not to knock either of the twins' heads against the chandelier. It was always so lovely to have her family back together again.
“Hey, Vergil,” a quiet voice called into the dark room later that night.
“I’m sleeping,” Vergil replied, not bothering to open his eyes.
“No, you’re not. You couldn’t say you’re sleeping if you were actually asleep.”
“I’m trying to sleep.”
“It’s not just pretend, right Vergil?” Dante asked across the quiet room, ignoring his brother’s not-so-subtle hints to stop talking. “You weren’t lying when you said we could get married, right?”
“We’re just kids,” Vergil sighed, giving in to Dante’s desire for conversation, “we can’t get married.”
“I’m not a kid!” Dante insisted.
“Yes, you are. We both are.” As much as he hated it, it was the truth and something Vergil was reminded of every time he saw their father. It was impossible to feel anything but childish and weak standing beside the great Sparda. He was happy, of course, that their father was home, but he also never felt quite so insignificant as when standing in his father’s shadow.
“Well, one day, I’m going to be grown, and then I’ll marry you.”
“Maybe,” Vergil whispered.
“But Vergil!” Dante whined. “You said you would!”
“Fine,” Vergil gave in. He always would have anyway; he’d never let anyone else have his brother, but that didn’t mean that Dante always needed to get what he wanted as soon as he asked. Dante was spoiled enough already; Vergil didn’t need to contribute to that.
Vergil heard shuffling from the other side of the room, accompanied by soft footsteps. When he felt a dip in his own bed, Vergil finally opened his eyes to see Dante crawling beneath the covers beside him. “Don’t come into my bed! You have your own.”
“Promise me,” Dante said, holding out one pinky. “Promise we get to be together forever.”
“Alright, I promise.” Vergil’s voice was exasperated, but he wrapped his own pinky around Dante’s just the same.
“We can be like mom and dad. Even if one of us has to leave, we can always be together again.”
Vergil scoffed at that, shaking his head. “Someday, I’m going to be bigger and stronger than father and I won’t ever have to leave.”
“You’re so cool, Vergil,” Dante said, leaning forward to press a kiss to his brother’s cheek. “You’re my hero.”
“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it,” Vergil said, leaning into Dante’s space and pressing a fleeting kiss to his twin’s lips. “That’s what mom does. It means you’re mine.”
Dante reached up and touched his mouth, pausing for a moment before speaking.
“Does that mean you get to be mine too?” He asked.
“Obviously.” Vergil rolled his eyes.
“Good.” Dante leaned forward, awkwardly bumping their mouths for a moment together again.
“Let’s go to sleep,” Vergil said, pulling the blankets up onto Dante the rest of the way. There wasn’t any point in trying to make Dante go back to his own bed at this point; Vergil knew a losing battle when he saw one.
“I love you, Vergil,” Dante whispered into the dark night.
Vergil paused for a moment before reaching out and taking his brother’s hand in his own. “I love you too, Dante.”
The night grew still around them once more. Beside him, Vergil could hear his brother’s breath slowly evening out, transitioning into a familiar rhythm.
We’ll always be together , Vergil thought with the kind of certainty only young children possessed. He would not be like his father, who left behind the people he cared about, expecting them to wait patiently for his return. As much as he admired his father, Vergil was determined to be better. He couldn’t even fathom leaving Dante behind. They were twins; they would always have each other.
Truly, why would Vergil even go anywhere Dante could not follow?
“I won’t let you go,” Vergil whispered to his sleeping brother. “I promise I'll always protect you.”