Disclaimer: I don't own Devil May Cry, nor do I profit.
This one is F for Fenrir, in the themes for alphabetasoup, the lj group.
Dusk – Eva
So strange, to find what he was forced to believe was true love on the eve of war.
Sometimes, he could almost hear Mundus' chains flexing in the darkness where he was buried, waiting for the seal to break, waiting to rise again. If he were a human he would have called it paranoia, how he was worried about every little thing.
Humans were fragile, he knew this. She was very un-fragile for a human, but… She would be old when the war came. She had already read the signs, she knew. They would try to kill her. Mundus would be enraged that the one he had chosen as his mate would dare choose another.
He would want her tormented eternally, to torment Sparda with her pain, worse than that of any soul that had earned their damnation through evil. No, she had done him only good. More good than anything else ever had.
But the time drew near, he could hear the clock ticking, but he had never been happier. He would have rather given up his right arm than her by the time he realized he was in love, that she was in love, that he had doomed her. He had already given up his sword and power to forge the chains that had allowed her to be born, to live a life that, though touched by tragedy, was far less horrific than it would have been under Mundus' rule.
He didn't want to think of her living a brief, tortured life, twisted into madness and sin to prepare her for the table. That made it all worth it.
Though time… he would win, he had to win, the dawn would rise again, but he was afraid his lady of light would not be there to see it.
She was untouched by darkness, she did not hate him despite his nature. What if… what if… no, she had seen the worst his kind did, she would not come to hate him if she lived to see the war.
She would be one of the first targets.
He would defend her to the death, he wanted to die defending her as a proper mate should, but he feared he would fail.
He had never feared failure so much, only success. And what if he died? Would their children be able to fight? They would die as well, surely, against the evil he had not sealed well enough.
And even if he defeated Mundus again, eventually she would die, mortal that she was, and her soul must not be allowed to journey to the Underworld with the other souls, to be drained of sin and freed to seek rebirth. Would he doom her to have no other life?
He should tell her everything. He had, but… again.
Did he doubt her that much, to believe she did not truly comprehend what they had gotten themselves into?
It could not but end in pain, it could not but end, and he did not think he could bear that. Better to die first himself than see her dead, to mourn her.
But oh, her sunshine hair and her fiery soul, so glorious, the strength he had seen in humanity, the avatar of everything he had forsaken his native darkness for. Everything good and yet not weak! She forgave and she loved, she laughed and was tender to their children, and he thought, watching her, that the fear and love mingled might break his heart with the ecstasy of it.
He didn't want to look at her and see her grave.
But the light died, though he might rage against it, as they both would. Only darkness was eternal.
But oh, how he loved her.
And he thought sometimes he might die of happiness.
Happily ever after was the end of the story.