Chapter Text
He got his seconds, and fortunately for him, Eva did as well. Her earlier claims of having enough coin rang true and let them enjoy a feast.
Most of it had made its way back out when he threw up on their way home, but it had tasted so good that this was an acceptable sacrifice. He had done worse things before. If the witch wrinkled her little human nose and brushed her hair far away from him then that was her problem, not his.
"It's a good thing you didn't get any ale. You stink, man."
"And you aren't a fresh breeze either, woman." he shot back.
Eva huffed, not quite yet insulted and still willing to humor him for whatever reason.
"I suppose we both are overdue for a wash."
That word and the way she said it sent shivers down his spine. If he were in his true form Sparda would have ruffled his wings and hissed. As he was then he could only make a face and grumble out complaints. Unfortunately that was about as scary as the dandelions in the wind. It wasn't like the sunshine he was stuck with cared much about his feelings anyway.
He let her guide him to wherever they needed to go. Human bodies needed to be cleaned with water every now and then, unlike his true self. Quite pitiful, if one were to ask him. It was one more reason on a steadily growing list of things why humanity was inferior and devilkind should rule.
When they passed an area he could almost call an arena or fighting pit, his eyes lit up. He was itching for a good fight. As handicapped as he was the humans might even have a chance against him. At least this would prove to be rather entertaining.
"Oh no. No, no, no. Nooo, lovebug. Don't."
"Oh yes. Yes I will."
"This is going to end badly."
"For them. I still have my training, even if my body isn't quite the same anymore."
Sparda almost choked on his words as he realized what he had just said.
"You don't look that old… aside from the hair that is."
A breath of relief made him fall together like a wet rag in a bucket. That had been a close one.
"I just reached adulthood not too long ago. Which is a cryptic way for me to tell you that I will not reveal my age to you, because I know it will annoy you." he almost sang.
"Bastard."
"You'd have done the same."
That finally got a smile out of Eva, "damn right I would!"
She turned around and went to one of the benches to watch whatever he was getting himself into. He was confident enough to win, so he sent her a playful wink and went into the arena like he owned the place.
When his first opponent stumbled close enough he struck with practiced ease. Sparda knew he had to hold back. His claws were nails and his scaly carapace had been reduced to squishy skin. He also couldn't kill any of his sparring opponents. He knew humans didn't do that, and in his state he just could not afford to risk losing access to Eva. As much as he hated it he depended on her. For now.
The fight was over in record time. The sorry excuse of a warrior on the ground before him hadn't even been able to hit him once. Such a shame, and with an offended huff Sparda pulled him back to his feet.
"That was pitiful. Were I still a general, I would have you on latrine duty for a long time for such a poor performance."
The silly thing turned pale and made such an interesting face. He had never known humans were able to twist their faces into this shape. As it was, he loved the fear that rolled off of his prey. Once he got his rightful body back he wanted to taste it again. What harm would there be in teaching this insignificant slug how to last a little longer? It would be quite entertaining to see humanity struggle before they fell.
"Again. This time, put your feet apart like I do. One hand up to stabilize, sword arm back. You are only tiring yourself out if you keep that nonsense up."
"Uh?!"
"I said on your feet, soldier!" Sparda growled.
"Yes, sir!"
Much better.
Each time he pushed or pulled his opponent into a position he deemed acceptable, Eva was either giggling or trying to break her own neck by leaning down to get a closer look at him. If she kept that up she would have to be his new dance partner.
However to his endless surprise the human steadily improved to the point where Sparda had to dodge and block before he could claim first blood again. He wasn't sure how long they had been doing this, but by the time they stopped it was long past nightfall, and a gigantic crowd had formed around them. Sparda was so distracted by the amount of humans watching him that he completely missed how his opponent hooked a foot around his leg, and then swept him off his own feet.
As Sparda hit the floor the arena burst into equal parts cheering and scandalized screams for him to get up. As he did, the human he had beaten so soundly before was staring at his hands as if they were foreign growths.
"Good job. Let's see if that was a fluke."
Sparda struck for the ribs, but his flat hand was caught and twisted palm up to bend his elbow. In response he let himself turn with the motion to unwind and then push his shoulder into his opponent. The human staggered, but caught himself.
"Almost impressive. Stronger things have fallen to that."
Namely a good two thirds of all devils in Mundus's army. Not demons, mind you, but actual devils. This not so useless specimen of a human should be able to hold his own against a Frost or Pride if he could accomplish this much against Sparda stuck as he was.
Now the fun could truly begin.
Just as he was about to prepare for a round-two he heard two soft clicks from behind him. With it, a shroud of silence fell upon the arena.
Turning around, Sparda felt something inside himself shiver.
"Eva."
"Well, I can't let you have all the fun now, can I?"
His tongue was sandpaper as he licked the air out of habit. Witches had always been too much hair for him to sink his teeth in and enjoy. They were full of magic, and their blood was said to be a thrilling snack. He wished he could taste it now as the high of battle made him delirious. Heat flared through all of his false form. He was ready to play.
And she met him on even ground. Sparda had to admit that Eva was fast when she fought. Her style was unlike his own, and yet they were not at all incompatible as they danced. She was a trickster, a slayer of devils. Bullet arts. He recognized years of diligent training when he saw them in action.
His own style was more solid. Sparda was a swordsman through and through. He was Mundus's top general, and one of the few knights who made up the royal guard.
In the end they were an even match made in hell. He couldn't land a single blow on the woman who turned into mist every now and then. Eva was lighter than air, harder than steel. She was a storm bound in the body of a deceptively lithe human vessel. In contrast to that she couldn't break his stance and will at all. The little needles and pins that she dished out, Sparda shrugged off. He had seen much worse and it would take her much more to wear him down.
Around them, the arena burst into a wildfire of emotion that almost overwhelmed the devil in human skin. He was familiar with hatred, with fear, and despair. He knew how to nourish his powers from them and feed his core until it was brimming with darkness. The emotions around him filled him up just as nicely, but they were alien to him. Whatever it was that made the embers of his real self burn bright, he decided he needed more of it.
Even if he had no idea what to call it.
Afterwards Eva dragged him to a nearby river and they both went for a swim. Witches weren't shy with their bodies and he had never understood humanity's need for clothing. Armor, yes, but modesty was a mystery to him still.
Which is how he ended up standing chest deep in cold clear water, watching an endless canopy of golden blonde. The children really had done a number on her prized hair. Sparda was grinning at her misery, even as a small sliver of himself winced at the sight.
"Turn around, woman. This is unacceptable." he grumbled to get Eva's attention.
In return, she blinked owlishly at him and lifted a lazy brow, "And what are you going to do, lovebug?"
Sparda brushed his own hair back and waved her over, "I have sisters. That taught me how to deal with knots and I take personal offense to what you have on your head right now."
At that Eva sent him a glare that said he was dead if he so much as ripped a single strand out. She dared him to falter, and to rethink if this was worth his very life. When he didn't budge she complied and turned around to let him prove himself.
Dear Mariposa had done far worse to him, Styx was even less forgiving. Sparda was used to pulling fragments of skulls from his elder sisters' hair. Compared to that, Eva's was easy to fix even without his claws. Those stupidly blunt human nails of his could comb through it just as well, thankfully.
When the moon stood high above them he announced that he was done. Immediately Eva ran her hands through what was now softer than silk and let out a delighted squeak.
"I'm keeping you!" she grinned, "thank you."
None of his sisters had ever thanked him, so Sparda was a bit surprised to hear Eva do it. It was a simple task done for the benefit of his companion's wellbeing, not some great act. She wouldn't react like this if he swept the floor, so why? Humans made no sense sometimes. He caught himself quick enough to return a nod to her, but the questions still swirled in his mind.
"You're welcome."
After that the pair returned home. A bath made humans sleepy, apparently. The knowledge was filed away for later in case it would ever be useful against them. It would not be much during combat, yes, but a siege battle? Yes, Sparda could work with that. He let his imagination run wild even as Eva got dressed for bed herself, and bid him goodnight with a soft knock on his head.
Sparda couldn't sleep. It was night, so obviously he should be awake because that was the natural order of the world. His world. No false skin could change that about him. It was quite annoying to roll around restlessly, and with aching muscles protesting every turn too.
Sparda groaned with a grin, he was such a terrible human.
When he opened his eyes he expected to see the world tinted in sweet darkness. The room Eva had stashed him in was not as barren as he had expected it to be, but also nothing like his own quarters back in the underworld. For one, he had to watch himself and his surroundings. Human dwellings were made of dead materials like wood and wool. This blanket would not drape itself over him and sink its thousand little feelers into his scales to keep him from drying out. The wood was also fragile enough to be scratched easily. He liked it when his furniture had the ability to heal itself, and to actually recoil in fear when he gave it a good smack.
The glowing orb of demonic energy hovering a hand's length above the floor was something interesting at least. Sparda recognized the remnant of another devil for what it was, but could not say who that had been once. Stripping them of name, aspects, and ego was the only proper way to kill his kind. Even then there was always something left behind, and that bit was his perfect excuse to get out of bed.
Sneaking past Eva was easy. The witch had rolled up in her own room, and all he could glimpse of her was a fluffy bundle of golden peeking out from an oversized blanket. She didn't even twitch when he climbed out of the hallway window. If he didn't know better he would have said she let him do as he pleased.
Those accursed human eyes could barely see in the dark he had once traversed with an unmatched grace. Sparda stumbled over roots and got caught in stray vines until the brambles had left many scratches on his exposed skin. What would have been nothing to his true form was an obstacle now, and no matter how much he wanted to roar in fury no sound made it past his throat. Human vocal cords did not work like he wanted them to.
The orb of demonic energy flared once more and beckoned him closer. Whichever foolish devil was guiding him must have been dead for quite a while. The magic felt hollow, brittle, and void of the stinging spiteful acid he was so familiar with. Civis Daemonica weren't taught magic like this, and soldiers fought until their very last breath. This led Sparda to assume he was dealing with the requiem of a scholar. A scribe, maybe, if fate favored him for once.
Sparda reached out and was met by cold indifferent emptiness. He was drifting on the verge of madness because his mind felt like he had been crammed into a tiny bottle with no way out, just almost cut off from what was himself. It was not that this false body of his could not comprehend the material and immaterial around him. The problem was that it was out of reach. He understood, yet whenever he reached for his core it slipped from his grasp. Just briefly he was nothing, and then he was in his pitiful cage again.
The dead devil's knowledge could be the key to unlocking his true form once more. He had to be quick, however. Eva might be asleep during the night, but morning always came far too quickly for his liking and she would notice his absence.
After a little more struggling against the wilderness, he found himself in a small grove that led to what he could only describe as a devil graveyard. Too many skulls and bones of his kind had been stacked like a macabre art display to be just a coincidence. It was hard to tell just how many were actually laid to rot there, but Sparda had a feeling their numbers reached into the thousands.
"You weren't supposed to find this, lovebug."
His head whipped around to see Eva casually cross her arms and pout at him. She had both of her heel guns on, as well as what looked to be a spear on her back. To even the lesser demons this should have been a sign to run. This witch meant business.
"You know who I am. What I am." he realized it far too late, "you've always known."
"Yes. However, you are the first devil I have come across who is stuck in a human's skin. I had hoped you were what I have been looking for all this time."
Sparda scoffed, "I can not forge a pact with you."
"Never say never, but no. I am not just after a pact. Sparda dearest, I'm looking for a devil who can learn to love."
He knit his brows together and frowned, "I know how to love."
"There is a difference between enjoying senseless slaughter and loving someone dearly." Eva was trying to be patient, and talked to him as if he were a child.
He hated that condescending tone, and replied with annoyance, "If you are that smart, witch, then enlighten me. What is this mystical concept I supposedly don't understand?"
With each bit that he raised his voice, her eyes lost some glimmer. At the end of his tirade Eva looked like she was mourning. Sparda didn't understand what, or who, she could be willing to cry after. Tears had never made sense to him in the first place.
"You enjoy bloodshed. You find delight in murder. It is what you know, it is all you know." she started, "but love? Love is more than that. To love is to have the drive to do the impossible. To be loved is to have someone to fight for."
Ever the good soldier, Sparda replied, "I fight for Lord Mundus."
"And what does he think of you in return? Does he love you, as you love him? Or is it adoration born from years of service? Why are you so loyal to him?"
Sparda bared his teeth but swallowed his harsh reply. A good soldier was always searching for his opponent's weak spot. Eva wanted him to love, so he decided that playing along was the best approach to take her down. If he could fake the 'love' she wanted him to show, then he could catch her unaware and get his just revenge on that arrogant woman.
It took him a while, but he answered with the thing he thought she wanted to hear.
"To die for my emperor is the highest honor."
"And how is it to live for your emperor?"
"Painful." a Freudian slip, not that Sparda noticed that bit.
He crossed his arms, "A good devil is a useful one. Our ranks shift on a daily basis because there will always be someone reaching for more, and stabbing another in the back to get there. It is how things are supposed to be. The weak die to make room for the strong. Power is everything."
"Down there maybe, but not here." Eva shot back with fire in her eyes, "when you held that baby you felt something. I know you did!"
"Satisfaction. It was a job done well enough."
"Was it 'satisfaction' though? Or was there more to it? Maybe something you can't name because you have never felt it before?" she insisted, sinking her barbs into him with each word spoken.
In return, Sparda closed off. He retreated behind his loyalty to his master and pushed out any alien feelings that he might have picked up from her. Humanity couldn't be contagious, or could it?
She carried on, "To love is to cherish. It goes two ways, and ties people together. Don't you have anyone you want to spend time with like that?"
"No. The closest I can compare this to is…" Sparda hurriedly looked away.
"Lovebug?"
"When you gave me those two guns, were you aware that the act is a demonic courtship ritual?" he asked, "were you playing with me all this time?"
"No! I had no idea." Eva gasped equal parts horrified and embarrassed.
"The tradition comes from an old legend. Two beings wanted to become a pair, but they were unable to touch each other. She sacrificed her scales to forge armor for him. He used his very essence to create weapons to kill them both in case their plans went awry, for death is preferable to failure. We are taught that the story symbolizes how unions are supposed to strengthen both partners."
Eva took that in and pulled the story apart in her head. He could almost see the little thoughts bounce around behind her eyes. What should have been a straight forward thought process was a complex mystery to her. Typical. Humans always needed to make thing so much more complicated than they needed to be. It did bring the sparkle back into her eyes though, and for some reason that made him loosen up the tense knot between his shoulders.
"They wanted to be with each other no matter the cost. Think about it this way, they did not strengthen each other for battle – or to be useful, to use your words. They did so to be close to each other. They wanted unity."
"Why? It's wasteful."
Eva took her chance, "because they were in love! They enjoyed each other's company so much that they gave parts of themselves to make it possible. One could not be without the other, so the impossible had to become possible. Sparda, that is true love! You can not be so blind and not see that!"
"And you claim they would prefer mutual destruction? Your love sounds less and less appealing if it robs you of your own mind."
"The benefits outweigh the costs. Never underestimate the power of love." Eva countered his line of thought, then asked, "don't you have someone you want to keep close against all odds? You know, someone who you would break rules for, and who makes you do things you wouldn't do otherwise?"
He considered it, and begrudgingly had to admit that, yes, "There is one whose company I enjoy as much as I detest it. I would even go so far and say that, if night became eternal right now I would save her for last. It just wouldn't be the same without her."
Hope bloomed in Eva's eyes. Her hands wrung her shirt until it was a misshapen knot held between shaking fingers. She searched his face for something again. Every crease, scar, and scratch was explored and analyzed. Then she swallowed her beating heart to silence the damned thing.
"Who?"
"You."