the sons of sparda

The sons of Sparda
Before Devil May Cry


Two adolescents, one in a crimson coat – the other in azure – crossed swords time and time again, letting only the swords communicate as they darted about the gigantic hallways of their mother and father’s mansion. They leapt to and fro, only giving a challenging remark when it would seem that the other grew tired or lacked speed, or strength.


Outraged at this remark, Dante, the teenager in crimson, became like the Viking Berserkers, charging at the boy in azure. He swung “Rebellion” as if he were a charging infant, upset that his older brother had taken something away from him.


But these two were much different from the typical brothers you’d see in a store, arguing over what their mother was going to buy for dinner. They argued with two shiny metal things: swords. They fought as if they were mortal enemies: Dante, the red coated boy, fighting the evil one, the boy in blue, as if the battle would never end. They battled on and on as if they themselves were the swords.


The 15-year-old, Dante, swung the behemoth-of-a-sword Rebellion. This sword is almost bigger then he, but it is only a hand-and-a-half sword. The most prominent embellishment was a demon-skeleton at the end of the handle and the beginning of the blade. Other than that, the blade curved inward and out near the end.


The 16-year-old, Vergil, shielded himself with their father’s other memento, a katana named Yamato. This blade is said to be so rapid that no ordinary being could see its elegance in battle. But these two were not born humans. An evil spirit, the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda, fathered them.


Other then their remarkable resemblance, the only other way they were identical was their elegant, yet beautiful mastery of one of man’s oldest armaments. And these two weapons met each other so many times it would seem like a blur.


If it weren’t for their mother calling them for dinner that night, they would’ve fought forever.



Shortly after their meal, they continued in the never-ending battle of sword against sword, brother against brother. This was their only form of entertainment, as then there was no such thing as electricity, and homes had to be warmed with fire, lit by torches and candles.

Their swords could be heard throughout the house. Dante and Vergil’s mother, Eva, had been fed up with trying to interfere; they would only fight more and harder if she tried. Eventually Eva gave up all together trying to stop them from fighting each other.

And to think, two years ago they would’ve been playing with all the other kids. And now, they only seek solitude, with only their swords as entertainment, and company. What did it take for this to happen?

As she pondered this, the small sliver of wood she lit to start the fire reached her fingers, which started to burn. She shrieked and immediately doused her fingers in saliva. The clanging stopped altogether and she could hear footsteps rapidly approaching.

“Mother!” Dante yelled.

“What’s wrong?” Vergil then yelled.

They walked into the main living quarters, which was the size of a tree. There were pillars from the floor to the ceiling, perhaps to hold the mansion in place. These pillars were made out of solid marble, like the ceiling and the floor. There was a giant carpet leading from the stairs they just ran down to where their mother, Eva, was. She was bent over the fireplace holding something.

“It’s nothing boys, I accidentally burned my fingers,” she said as she took the burnt fingers out of her now-drooling mouth.

Vergil stood there looking at her fingers, examining the burn marks as if he didn’t believe her. He wanted to speak his opinion out, but before he could, he saw his red-coated brother Dante walk slowly over to their mother and wipe the drool off of her mouth. He then whispered something into her left ear. Eva then hugged her good-natured son and tried to light another sliver by rubbing it against the fireplace, which for some odd reason was made out of a hard material called brick.

She turned to Vergil and asked him to look outside and tell her if the sun was down yet. Eva slowly listened to the slow clatter of his boots on the carpet-covered marble. He opened the door and there was no sound for a long moment. After what seemed like an eternity to her Vergil replied simply, “yes mother, the sun is slowly going down.”

She sat up after a moment of consideration, and listened to her slow steps that oddly were in tune with her heartbeat. She looked at his face and could see no emotion whatsoever in it. She joined her older twin son at the massive dark-red double-doors and stared for the longest time at the sight in front of her.

Gold, red and pink overtook her sight as soon as she looked out the door. The lowering sun was a dark shade of gold, mixed with shades of red. The surrounding clouds were reddish pink with the occasional gold cloud. Tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered something, 18 years ago…




The sun was gold in all its glory, with shades of red corrupting its beauty. Clouds of odd color were surrounding the corrupted sun, like animals surrounding a sick and injured one. And basking in its marvelous glory was a young woman, not older then 19.
She was the most beautiful of Europe altogether, and men would line up at her doors to pay homage to her marvelous sight. Some even considered her a priest with her empathy and ability to help people. Along with paying homage men would also come to her doors asking to wed her and bear children.

Most of the men who walked to the doors and knocked ever softly were suitable enough to her, but for one reason or another, they all seemed… uninteresting to her, but not to her parents. They were handsome, rich, or for other reasons thought they were suitable, but she never found anything in them she really liked.
That is, until one day when the sun was going down (as described before), a man dressed in purple almost-silk clothing and carrying an odd sword stepped up to her doors. To her it seemed as if she had been waiting for this man all her life, and she knew he was there even before he knocked once, twice on the doors.

When she opened the door, they said nothing at first. Her eyes darted all around him and took in everything one at a time: slicked back white hair; perfectly formed facial features; fiery blue eyes; broad shoulders; purple clothing; lots of necklaces; …and the one thing that caught her attention most of all: a sword. Its blade was a simple two bladed edge. The metal handle was wrapped and at the butt of the sword was a bunch of skulls with a point coming out the middle of them. This sword in and of itself was magnificent, going up to a few inches below his waist.

“Do you like the sword?” the stranger asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.” Eva replied.
“I call it Force Edge.”
“Interesting name. How about yours?”
He hesitated. “My name is Sparda.”
“And my name—“
“—Is Eva. Everyone all across this continent knows your name.”
“Sparda…like the city?”
“Kind of. It’s very cold out here, can I come in?”
He’s nice…too nice…I’d better be careful.
“Of course.”

She led him into the mansion and let him sit at the dining room table, which could’ve been seated for at least 15-20 people. He sat in silent contemplation while she returned a moment later with some wine and two glasses.
When she offered him some he took the glass cheerfully from her, but didn’t drink it; he stared into the liquid as if it were a mirror, and he saw a distorted face looking back at him.
After awhile he took a sip and set the glass down. And then he thought of something.

“Do you live here alone?”
“No. There are some maids and a butler, but he always takes off and never comes back for days at a time. My mother and father went to bed early…”
“Do you think they would mind if I stayed here for a few days? As it is I have no place to call a home.”
“Of course they’d let you stay! Would you like some dinner?”
“No, thank you. I ate on my way here.”

…After then they both fell deeply in love and for two years they never left the other’s side. One day their father announced that the two would be married. And almost a year after they wed she gave birth to a beautiful white-haired boy, who looked strangely like Sparda. As they were about to leave the church where she gave birth the woman who had helped her said that there was still a child inside of her. And less then a month after that she gave birth to a second son, who looked almost exactly like the first child and her dear husband Sparda.
They grew up in peace, and later on when the children were 5 and 6 Sparda had died while in his sleep. The cause of death was unsure –

“Mother?”
“Yes, Vergil?”
“Were you having another vision?”
“Yes, sorry. Come on, let’s get that fire started before it gets too cold”
“Let’s.”