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Upon opening his eyes, Dante is met with a disappointing sight. The starry sky and moonlight peek through the curtains in front of his bedroom window.
For the last couple of weeks the young boy found himself waking up several times a night, seemingly for no reason at all. At first he had wondered if his brother had sneakily attempted to wake him from his slumber but immediately rejected the idea.
If there was one thing he knew about Vergil, it’s that he values his sleep.
Dante remains still, clutching onto the stuffie beside him and squeezing his eyes tight. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could fall back asleep until morning.
After what feels like forever, the boy slowly opens one eye, and disappointment washes over him. The moon remains high in the sky, taunting him silently.
The boy sits up slowly, careful to not wake his brother lying at his side. He brings his knees up to his chest, tucking his chin inward with a small pout.
Even though Vergil was a pain, on nights like these the boy yearned for some company.
For a while he just sits there, his blanket enveloping his small body in a warm embrace. He closes his eyes and listens to the chirping of the crickets outside.
His peace is suddenly disturbed as his ears catch hushed voices coming from down the hall. The boy perks up and looks at the door leading out of the bedroom. He tilts his head slightly in confusion as golden light pours in from under the door.
He takes a quick look at his twin sleeping soundly beside him before slowly crawling over to the edge of their crib. Ever so slowly the boy uses all his strength to push himself up on the bars, swinging a chubby leg over the railing.
The unnatural strength that came from his demon lineage certainly came in handy, especially in times like these.
The boy slowly shimmies down the wooden posts of his bed, landing onto the hardwood with a soft thud. He figured if his parents were still up, it wouldn’t be too big of a deal if he pretended to get a drink from the kitchen.
He makes his way over to the door, the soles of his feet pattering softly. He stands on his tiptoes, his small hand reaching for the door handle before hardly pulling it down and swinging it open.
He peeks his head out the door tentatively, looking into the dark hallways. After checking if the coast is clear, the boy continues onward now on his quest to figure out what his parents were up to.
The boy is careful walking down the halls, stepping only on the pieces of floor that don’t creak under his weight. His nightgown trails behind him, nearly dragging on the floor.
When he finally makes it to where the light is emitting from, his parents' voices become clear as day through the walls. He is careful when peeking around the corner, ensuring not to go too far out and get caught.
His eyes drift to his father first, the man standing in front of the lively fire burning in the hearth to his side. His posture is stiff, with his arms crossed across his chest with his gaze fixated on his mother.
Dante’s eyes then go to his mother, the woman lying casually on the velvet loveseat with a book lying on her lap. She adjusts her shawl lying over her shoulders before speaking.
“I just don’t know, dear…they’re just too young to understand yet.” The woman says in a hushed voice, averting her eyes to her hands.
Sparda sighs deeply, bringing a hand to his temple and rubbing at his skull as though deep in thought.
“Believe me, I would rather avoid this as well. But you know as well as I do that it’s dangerous to not teach them these things.” He mumbles deeply, his brows pushed together in concern.
Dante leans in out of intrigue, accidentally stepping onto a loose floorboard. He cringes as the wood creaks softly beneath his weight, quickly ducking his head back behind the wall.
Sparda tilts his head ever so slightly before clearing his throat. Eva then looks up to him, hugging her arms. He slowly saunters over to her, dropping down to his knees to meet her at her level.
He brings a hand to her cheek, caresses his wife’s face ever so gently and runs a thumb across her cheekbone.
“How about we talk about this in the morning? It’s getting late.” He says lowly.
His mother's gaze softens, leaning into his touch before nodding softly.
“Okay.” She replies, attempting to hide her worry.
He then leans in, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head before standing and giving her a brief smile.
“Sleep well, love,” he whispers before disappearing around the corner and heading off down the hall.
Eva sighs, taking a deep breath and pulling her knees closer to her chest. Suddenly a playful smile crawls across her lips, setting her book on the table beside her.
“You can come out now.” The woman calls out softly, eagerly waiting in silence for a response.
Dante’s heart quickens a little before he hesitantly steps out into view with his head hanging low.
The woman hums, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly.
“What are you doing up, dear?” She coos softly.
The boy shrugs, picking at the fabric of his pajamas.
“I dunno…” he mumbles.
The woman chuckles a little before patting the empty spot beside her.
“Come, sit with me,” she instructs gently, beckoning him over.
The boy nods, making his way over to the edge of the velvet chair. His mother leans down, scooping him up under his armpits and bringing him onto the soft velvet.
The boy wastes no time crawling up into her arms, cradling himself in the space between her arm and her side. The woman hums once again, bringing a hand to his cheek and stroking his chubby face softly.
“Did you have a scary dream?” She inquires.
Dante shakes his head, playing with the fabric of her shawl.
“I dunno… I just open my eyes and I’m not tired.” He explains meekly, his small cheeks flushing a little in embarrassment.
The woman nods in response, running her hand up and down his arm in a soothing motion.
“I understand love, I struggle with the same thing sometimes.” She explains. Dante’s head shoots up, cocking a brow.
“You do?” He replies in awe, staring up at her with curious eyes.
Eva smiles softly, tucking a stray hair behind his ear.
“Of course, silly. Even grown-ups can’t sleep sometimes.” She replies, using her arm to pull him closer. The boy settles in the crook of her arm, his cheek pressing onto his mother's chest.
They sit in silence for a few moments, the crackling fire filling the ambiance. Gingerly his mother reaches to her side, grabbing her novel from the table beside her. She then bends her knees slightly, laying the book across her lap and opening to her bookmarked page.
Dante opens his eyes, watching his mother's deep blue eyes flit across the pages one after the other, her eyebrows furrowed in deep thought.
“Mama, what’s that?” Dante asks softly, scanning the scribbles on the pages before him.
Eva places her finger at the beginning of one of the paragraphs before turning her head to the side.
“It’s a story, dear. A story about a brave warrior with a noble heart.” She explains
The boy cocks an eyebrow in confusion.
“What that mean?” He asks tentatively, embarrassment crawling under his skin.
Eva smiles at his inquiry before clearing her throat.
“To be noble means that you always do the right thing, even if it’s scary. You stand up for what you believe and stay strong.” She says softly, cuddling her son close.
Dante nods slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
“So just like Father?” He asks, his eyes wide as saucers.
She nods once again.
“Exactly.”
Dante accepts her answer, settling back down into her warm embrace. He keeps his eyes fixated on the pages and wonders what other secrets this story holds.
The woman notices his intrigue, his eyes tracking her finger as though he were hypnotized.
“Would you like me to read it to you?” Eva asks softly, interrupting the silence.
Dante thinks for a moment before settling on an answer.
The boy nods, nuzzling against his mother's side.
The woman smiles briefly before adjusting herself, clearing her throat before reading the first sentence.
His mother begins describing a vast land much like their own, telling a tale of fierce warriors, tyrants, and love. The boy closes his eyes and listens as his mother narrates, her tone soft yet animated all the same.
It doesn’t take long until the boy’s eyes start to feel heavy, his head now becoming heavy with sleep. He doesn’t fight the exhaustion creeping up on him; rather, he gets even more comfortable.
Eva doesn’t stop reading aloud, continuing on page after page until her son is fast asleep at her side.
She then closes the book softly, resting her hand across the leather-bound cover. Gingerly she reaches for her son, brushing a silver hair out of his eyes.
In a smooth motion she sets the novel aside once more, shifting her weight without so much as a sound. She scoops the young boy into her arms, carrying him close as he remains in a deep slumber.
The boy mumbles softly as she brings him back to the nursery, occasionally opening his tired eyes before falling back into a sleepy trance.
Upon entering the room, Eva quietly looms over the crib, her gaze softening at her other son sleeping so peacefully with his blanket tucked up to his chin.
Slowly she lowers Dante down onto the mattress, bringing his stuffie up to his arm to snuggle with. Gingerly she raises the plush blankets up to her younger son's chest before leaning forward and brushing his long hair out of his chubby face.
“I love you, my dearest; sweet dreams,” the woman whispers softly before peppering a gentle kiss on her son’s forehead.
Before leaving the room, she runs a hand through Vergil’s hair, the boy rustling slightly in sleep until settling once more. She smiles, bringing his blanket up to his chin and leaning in to give him a kiss as well.
She takes one final glance at her children before leaving the room, slowly shutting the door behind her with a quiet thud.
Now that he is fully grown, Dante now understands his mother's hidden messages laced throughout his childhood interactions. He curses himself for not catching on sooner, but truthfully, how could he have known? After all, the mind of a child simply does not grasp the concepts of the real world.
After several failed search missions in and around the grounds where the Sparda mansion went up in flames, Dante finally found something worth saving.
Hidden in a small steel box, the now-grown man finds something unexpected: a nearly flawless copy of that same book his mother read to him years ago.
He runs the relic in his hands a few times, somewhat impressed by the condition of such an artifact. After a moment of hesitation, the man flips open the book, a worn cream-colored letter falling to the floor beneath him.
He looks around him for a moment. Odd. If there was an inkling of demonic energy in the air, he may have assumed he was in for a big fight.
Slowly he leans down and picks up the paper, flipping open the wax seal and reading the contents.
The man is immediately taken aback at the sight of his mother's handwriting, the cursive so neat and crisp it hurts his eyes. He rereads each sentence over and over, clinging to the words of his late mother.
He pauses at the final line, his mouth becoming dry.
“My sweet Dante, I know you may not understand now, but I want you to have this. Remember, you are so much stronger than you think, and I’ll always be in your heart if you ever are unsure. I love you.
- Mom .”
Tears prick at the corner of his eyes before he quickly wipes them away with a gloved hand. Dante runs his fingers along the scripture, feeling the indentations of her handwriting etched through the paper.
He smiles a bit to himself. Despite the very few moments he remembers, he had never imagined a human as gentle as his mother would have such a heavy hand.
Gingerly, Dante folds up the piece of paper into a small square and tucks it into the inside pocket of his coat. He then lifts his weapon from the ground, swinging it around and placing it back in its holster.
He begins walking away from the rubble, his fragile memories of the past replaying through his mind. He now has a different thing keeping him awake at night.