Chapter Text
At the crack of Dawn, January 3rd of some year in the Third Epoch, the many Kings of Angels of the Glorious Kingdom of God gathered in the entryway of the Lord’s temple. It was rare that Their Lord would summon all of Them at once like this, and faint air of unease quietly permeated around Them.
Medici Himself had come straight from the Army’s barracks, being one of the first to arrive.
Moments later, the others followed. He wasn’t quite sure when Ouroboros had arrived, but He turned to converse with Him instead, a blatant provocation to the others. Curiously enough, Sasrir was missing from their cohort.
Uncharacteristically, Ouroboros had His eyes opened, silently staring at the tall pillars of the temple They were all in. Raising his brows, Medici lazily rested a hand on His own waist, calling out to the other Angel.
“Oi, Big Snake,” He began, watching the other turn and slowly blink at Him. “What’s the matter? Any idea of what’s happening?” He sensed the rest of the Kings of Angels looking in Their direction as well.
“...I sense a Major change in the fates of All who are here.” He spoke simply, closing his eyes again.
Medici didn’t bother attempting to press Him for more details, Their long history together making Him quite aware of Ouroboros’ speech quirks. It was likely that these would be the only words He would say the entire day.
“As vague as always, it seems.” Auceses’ voice murmured from behind them.
Even so, all of the Angels were curious as to what exactly the Silver Angel’s words meant. Would they engage in some treacherous war from one of the neighboring kingdoms of the Evil Gods leftover? Or perhaps one, or several, of Them would get demoted from their current status.
Everyone had different guesses based off of their mentalities, yet none chose to speak them, fearing accusations of blasphemy against their lord.
Still, loyalty and trust in the Divine Being they all followed kept the Angels rational. And soon, Their wait was over.
With the full rise of the sun, a man clad in pale white robes gently walked over to the group. Everything about Him seemed to glow with radiance, His presence encasing the room with a comforting warmth. A gentile smile lingered on his face, emanating hope and entrancing all who looked upon His visage.
Immediately, the Angels fell to their knees and saluted, devoutly crying out, “Praise the Lord!”
A soft laugh echoed around the room, the man’s voice ethereal and all consuming.
“None of that, my dear Angels. Please stand, today is a day to be celebrated.” Medici felt a twinge of concern at The Lord’s current state. He knew that His Lord had been fighting off corruption, occasionally choosing to sleep while accommodating the excess characteristics He had gained in the past war.
It hadn’t been too long since He had awoken again, but even a demigod could could tell that the Lord was exhausted. What exactly could this event be for?
Behind Him, Sasrir creeped out from the shadows. Interestingly enough, He carried a small, swaddled form in each arm.
He looked back upon Him, before turning to look at His angels once more.
“As you are aware, I have been fighting back the corruption and madness that came with the excess beyonder characters I have incorporated within me,” He began. As Sasrir drew closer, the angels were able to see two small faces in the swaddled forms. “Creating Them from the remaining power has succeeded in stabilizing my current state.”
“Their names are Adam and Amon. Once they become of age, they will work alongside us all as our fellow Angels in this Kingdom.” Sasrir finally spoke, His severe voice and demeanor creating a sharp contrast between the rather motherly image he exuded currently.
Medici found great amusement in seeing how many of His features were reflected onto the children as well.
They spoke in a coordinated manner, as if rehearsed, of every detail of any events that would soon come to be in the upcoming weeks.
With a good natured smile, Their Lord would announce the days of Celebration and banquets, for every class of person in the Kingdom. Sasrir would quickly follow up with a brief summary of what was needed, and began assigning tasks for the different Angels to do.
Soon, the Sun rose higher in the air, and the initial planning was complete.
“You may all now leave to engage in preparations. But Ouroboros, Medici, would you stay here a moment longer?”
The room was quick to empty, aside from the four adult male figures still lingering inside.
Reactively, the Reg Angel’s body began to itch with a sense of excitement for future battle. Almost every time He was granted private audience in front of the deity with Ouroboros, it was typically a precursor to Their Lord sending them off to the heart of another battlefield.
Perhaps this was a request for more lands to be conquered for the new Angels? Medici dared not question His God’s will any longer.
“Medici,” The Angel stood up at attention. “Please, come here. I have an important task for you.”
He complied unhesitatingly.
The Lord’s deep and vast golden eyes seemed to pierce directly into Medici’s soul, dissecting every characteristic and component of the mythical creature He was. It felt like a century was spent that way. Several lifetimes, even.
And then, He smiled.
His face took on a more gentle visage as Be looked down upon Him, the contours of His face emphasized by the shadows brought on by the angle. Leaning downwards, He gently tilted up Medici’s head by the chin. His porcelain hands brushing one of His stray locks of Bright red hair behind His ear.
Medici’s heart raced erratically in His chest, feeling His Lord come closer. His gentle breath preceded the soft kiss of His divine lips planted against the Red Flag mark on His forehead. Immediately, He felt a sense of warmth rush throughout his body with his Lord’s blessings.
“To you, My Angel of Victory, I bestow upon you my youngest son.”
“When he becomes of age, He is to be the Angel of Time. A God of Trickery and Mischief, and the light at the dawn of the Apocalypse.”
With those words, He gingerly handed over the white bundle of cloth into his arms.
“He’ll be a troublesome one to raise, I’ve foreseen,” The Ancient Sun God seemed to find some amusement at his own words, a wry smile peeking through. Of course, as His most trusted angel, Medici had the status of a being He would have little distrust towards regardless. “With your strong attitude and willfulness, I have absolutely zero doubts that your guidance will lead him astray.
“By your will, my Lord. I swear on my honor to perform my duty well.” Medici spoke devoutly, bowing once again. “It is nothing short of a great honor for me to do this.”
Right after, Ouroboros went through the same ordeal with Adam. Albeit, with much less words spoken. Still, their gentle personalities would compliment each other well, and would be a great Sunday for the eldest son’s personality.
Precious cargo in arm, the two turned to gaze up at Their Lord.
“I shall retire to my chambers to rest once more. Sasrir will be of service if you require any assistance.” He declared simply, soft smile radiating out towards them.
They watched as Their Lord’s lofty figure turned and gradually descended back into the depths of the shadows, His pure white robes gently swaying with His movements.
It was only when He was gone that They stood and turned to face Their new charges.
The Lord’s eldest had quite a curious expression rested upon His face. The other remained fast asleep.
Medici and Ouroboros followed Sasrir into Their nursery, of which they would remain for the next few hours.
How exactly was one meant to go about performing their tasks well in this predicament? Medici was rather puzzled, for once finding himself at a complete loss of what to do.
Medici went by several different titles. The Red Angel, The Great God of War, The Lord’s Rage and Punishment, all rather blatantly pointing at his prowess in combat and bloodshed.
As The Lord’s Most Loyal Angel, Medici would proudly go on to do every little task assigned to him with glee. It brought great pleasure to both Him and His Lord knowing that no matter the situation, he would go about it with full earnestness, and bring about great results each time.
He’s had quite the excellent record. Leader and commanding officer of the Kingdom of God’s army, he’s led his men into countless wars, always leaving victorious. In the Lord’s name, He led expeditions to expand the territory, fighting evil gods, and bringing liberation to the weak common folk.
In His fights and proselytization, His boisterous acclaims and praises to God rang clear across countless spans of land. His blood-red hair and dark eyes shot fear and awe into enemies and allies alike. His fiery-presence and blood-stained armor were a beacon of morale to His soldiers on the battlefield, each one as loyal to Him as he was to His Lord.
He had sworn to carry out each and every one of His Lord’s tasks bestowed upon Himself over the millennia He had followed Him. But this here? This might just prove to be the most painstaking and difficult one of them all.
He wasn’t even sure where to begin. Babysitting was absolutely nowhere in his qualifications.
Medici glared back down at the bundle of white cloth He held an arm’s length from His face.
“The fuck am I supposed to do with you, little guy?” He said to himself, alone in the quiet air of the moonlit nursery room of the Lord. Of course, as a Sequence 1 Conquerer, He had absolutely 0 issues with seeing in the dark. This allowed him to see the rounded and chubby cheeks of the ‘child’ He held onto.
The baby, Amon, slowly opened up His eyes to look at Him. The ridiculous looking monocle clung on well to His face swaddled in the cloth, looking completely innocent in His demeanor.
“Buh,” the Baby replied eloquently, barely a day old and already speaking in prose. A prodigy to be, He assumed.
Was that an accomplished feat? Medici wondered to himself. Obviously, as the offspring of His Lord, the children would inevitably grow up to be special. He had no doubt about His Lord’s judgement, even if the child He was looking at right now seemed rather unremarkable.
In a swift manner, He maneuvered the bundle of cloth into His arms the way He’s seen human mothers do with their own offspring. Amon made some soft noises of discontent at the movement, but seemed rather happy reaching out and grabbing one of Medici’s fingers.
Fighting his instincts, Medici let the baby play with the digit in light amusement.
‘What a puny thing,’ He thought to Himself. Even using both of His hands, Amon struggled to wrap them around Medici’s much larger ones. Much like a worm, His arms were wiggly, futile in His attempts at reaching up and touching Medici’s face as well.
He was so incredibly tiny, Medici noted in fascination.
Knowing that He easily possessed the strength to crush the small thing in front of Him, he found it rather hard to believe that Amon was an angel. He had very little experience with dealing with any individual this age. Mostly dealing with his men from the army, even the youngest ones were in their late teens at least, and a significant far cry from the thousand-year old beings He dealt with on a daily basis.
Occasionally, women would come around claiming their offspring was His. Though prolific in his exploits and indulgences of the fairer sex, Medici was always careful to control His beyonder characteristics in the heights of copulation. He knew for a fact that not a single one of them were His.
Even if they were, somehow, His fiery red hair would shine proudly through any children He would've had, Hunter traits characteristically coming on top of the rest. It was definitely eye-catching, gleaming a beautiful sheen in both the sun and moon’s light, His most defining trait. On the battlefield, He’d provoke his enemies and act as a living target, challenging all those who blindly rushed towards Him in anger.
Unfortunately, it seemed that even newborns were affected by his passive taunts.
“Ugh—let go!” He hissed, snatching His locks back. “My hair is not a toy for you, brat!”
Alas, the evil child only seemed to laugh even further at the blatant provocation. Amon’s giggles filling up the room with a sense of twisted joy. Eye twitching, Medici’s spiritual intuition told him that the creature in front of Him would be responsible for many of his hardships in the future.
Joy.