Title - Childbirth 1
The hallway stretched endlessly, an opulent corridor of divine artistry, bathed in the ethereal glow of celestial lights.
The walls of shimmering gold seemed to pulse with life and etched with the sacred symbols of languages long forgotten by time.
Massive columns lined either side of the path, intricately carved from translucent crystal.
Above, a vaulted ceiling expanded like the night sky itself, constellations slowly shifting as if time had no meaning here.
Suddenly, the stillness of the divine realm was disturbed by the presence of a figure who walked as though he owned the very cosmos.
Majestic and imposing, the figure's stride was neither hurried nor cautious, but one of absolute confidence, like a lion surveying its kingdom. His form emanated an aura of serene, controlled power.
Golden light flickered from his footsteps, as though the very ground responded to his presence. As he walked, those he walked past stopped and bowed reverently at him.
This was common occurrence in this side of the Omnipotence City.
Reaching the end of the hall, the figure stopped in front of a massive gate that gave off an impressive amount of cosmic energy.
[WELCOME, LORD ASPECT.]
A gentle soothing voice rang out from the door, sounding almost angelic as the gates swung open for him to walk in, and as he did, the atmosphere within shifted.
What lay beyond was a grand, circular chamber, entirely unlike the opulent corridor that preceded it.
The walls were adorned not with an artistry that was beyond comprehension, but with vast holographic displays and floating consoles.
Screens flickered with streams of data, each screen showing different realms, stars, and various constellations that seemed to stretch across the vast Expanse of Space.
The room was alive with activity, yet the noise was nothing more than the soft hum of information processing.
Humanoid beings, tall and graceful, moved rapidly between the consoles as they worked, they were focused, yet each maintained an bearing of poise and purpose as they worked.
The room felt like a fusion of Science and Divine Magic, a place where the happenings of reality was monitored, controlled, and adjusted in real time.
Aspect, paused momentarily at the threshold, his eyes scanning the room with a hint of approval.
His presence commanded immediate recognition as he made his way up a spiral staircase leading to a high platform.
From this vantage point, Aspect could oversee all the workers, their focused movements below appearing almost synchronized, like gears in a grand mechanism.
His gaze lifted to the central screen, a vast panel that stretched from floor to ceiling, displaying scenes from countless worlds and realms.
This was the benefit of being the Universe's sole supplier of Internet.
He folded his hands behind his back and allowed a brief moment of satisfaction to pass over him as he observed.
Everything was running as expected.
Suddenly, the sound of movement broke his silent reverie as a female angel, her wings fluttering nervously, approached, her expression panicked, her posture unbefitting of one in such a space.
Aspect's eyes darkened, his brows furrowing ever so slightly at the sight of her. "Tamariel," he addressed her, his voice calm but laced with quiet reproach. "What is the meaning of this... unbecoming haste?"
Panting slightly, Tamariel bowed quickly, her flustered state betraying her usual discipline. "My lord... I apologize for my demeanor, but there is urgent news." She handed him a translucent screen, her hands trembling slightly. "You must see this."
Taking the screen without a word, Aspect narrowed his eyes as the video began to play.
He watched intently as Lucifer, the Fallen Morningstar, approached the massive gates that had bound him to Hell for millennia.
There, with what seemed like ease, Lucifer pushed the colossal gates open, shattering the restriction meant to hold him in Hell.
A soft exhale escaped Aspect's lips as his gaze shifted ever so slightly. The image of Lucifer and Mazikeen walking free from the infernal depths was displayed clearly on the screen.
The footage continued, switching to the human realm, Earth, specifically, Los Angeles. There, Lucifer and Mazikeen encountered the angel Halaliel, who was easily overpowered by the Morningstar with a snap of his finger.
The video ended, leaving them in eerie silence.
Tamariel's nervous gaze darted between Aspect and the now-dark screen. "What... What should we do, my lord?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
One had to know that as a Militaristic Race, the Angels respected strength above all and Samael as he was known before his fall was the First Morningstar, the strongest Angel below God.
Even Michael, the young genius of the Angel race fell short in his presence, that were it not for Gods empowerment, he would've Fallen on that dreadful day of the rebellion.
And currently in Heaven, there were less than Five individuals who could stand against Him.
Azrael, The Principality of Death. Metraton, The Principality of Fate and Destiny and Micheal, Commander of the Army of Heaven.
For a moment, Aspect did not respond. He simply stared at the empty screen. After a few seconds, he handed the device back to Tamariel, his features betraying no outward concern.
"Nothing," he finally said, his voice as measured and serene as ever.
Tamariel blinked, her confusion evident. "Nothing, my lord?"
"Everything proceeds as ordained," Aspect replied smoothly. "All things work according to the will of God. There is no need for intervention. Lucifer's actions, too, are part of the grand design."
Tamariel, though still clearly troubled, immediately dropped to her knees and bowed deeply. "By His Will," she recited, her voice filled with reverence.
She understood that there was nothing she could do even if she worried, so what was the point of it?
Aspect gave her a nod of acknowledgment, though his gaze remained distant. Tamariel rose, her wings unfurling slightly before she quickly departed, her bearing far more composed than when she had entered.
Once alone, Aspect turned his attention back to the central screen, his expression unreadable.
Despite his words to Tamariel, something lingered in his gaze, a quiet contemplation, as though the events set in motion had stirred something deep within him.
But in true fashion, he showed no sign of doubt or hesitation, only the confidence of one who understood the divine order better than most.
And so, the room returned to its rhythm, the angels continuing their work, unaware of the quiet storm brewing just beyond the horizon.
…
Asgard's skies glimmered casting their ethereal hues across the golden halls. A small group had gathered in one of the more secluded wings of the palace, where the radiant glow of the hall was overshadowed by the tense energy emanating from within the enclosed room.
Inside that room, Thena lay on a bed of Asgardian silk, her body trembling under the excruciating waves of labor. Her screams echoed through the walls.
The intensity of her pain wasn't ordinary. As the seed of two Eternals, the child she carried was anything but typical.
Her erratic movement sent cracks through the reinforced materials of the bed, and more than one piece of furniture in the room had been reduced to splinters from her thrashing.
Outside the room, the group of Eternals paced, stood or sat awkwardly, visibly affected by the sounds of their member's suffering.
Ajak, usually calm and composed, had her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her brow furrowed with worry. Sersi sat stiffly in her seat, her fingers twisting anxiously through the folds of her dress. Sprite, eternally a child yet old beyond count, shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting between the door and the floor, unsure how to handle the moment.
This was the first time in over ten thousand years a member of their race was giving birth to a child, so one could imagine their trepidation at the uncommon occurrence.
Thor, standing near the entrance, glanced toward Loki, who leaned casually against the far wall, his face a mask of indifference though his eyes flickered with interest at the scene unfolding.
He didn't really know why he was here, but since his entire family was here, not being here would reflect him in a bad light. Not to mention his mother was the chief midwife inside.
Even the Allfather, Odin himself, was here and remained silent as his one eye scanning the group with a thoughtful expression.
Though he tried to remain detached, the significance of the moment weighed on him as well. The birth of a child from two Eternals, one a Transcendent Being amongst the Eternal, the other a warrior of untold millennia was something he wouldn't want to miss.
Not to mention…amongst the Circle of Godheads, Leucadius was his only friend.
Leucadius, however, sat alone in one corner of the room, his posture calm, arms resting on his lap, his eyes half-lidded as if he were deep in thought or entirely disinterested in the chaos around him.
Of all those present, he was the only one who appeared unaffected by the situation. His face showed no trace of concern, no hint of anxiety, even as the muffled screams of his wife echoed through the halls of Asgard.
His breathing remained steady, his gaze fixed somewhere distant, perhaps on matters far beyond this moment of tension.
Gilgamesh rubbed the back of his neck with a heavy sigh, casting a glance toward the door before returning his gaze to Leucadius. "Isn't there something more we could do?" he murmured, the frustration in his voice clear.
His fists clenched at his sides as if ready to take on whatever unseen force was tormenting Thena. Amongst the Eternals, he was closest to Thena and treated her as a sister more than the others.
Ajak simply shook her head. "This isn't something we can help with. Thena's strength will see her through... eventually."
"I just hope the doctors survive it," Phastos muttered, his arms folded as he paced restlessly. The thought of Asgardian physicians trying to manage an Eternal in labor seemed more far-fetched with every agonizing scream that reached their ears. It is a fact that they were the ones who took care of birthing Asgardian children of nobility, but in the end, the physiology of different races affects things like this...or so he surmised
It was a good thing they birthed the child here. Even at that, there was no saying how the Vanir midwives would fare. "If they don't, it won't be for lack of trying."
Thor chuckled slightly, though it was clear even his amusement was half-hearted. "Asgardians have survived worse. But even I don't envy them this task."
Amongst the Eternals, few were used to Thor's childishness despite his old age so they could only roll their eyes but ignore him. Even they dreaded being in the same room with a raging Thena.
"Her pain is greater because the child she bears is no ordinary offspring. The strength that lies within the infant is something this universe probably hasn't seen before." Odin's voice was deep, commanding attention despite his soft tone.
Leucadius' eyes, which seemed to have been gazing into the distance suddenly contracted and turned to Odin who met his gaze with his one eye, unnoticed by the others.
Just as the group exchanged glances, the piercing scream from inside the room seemed to rise to a new height, shaking the very foundation they stood on.
The energy radiating from Thena was palpable now, sending tremors through the air like waves in a storm. It was almost as if she were tearing apart the fabric of reality itself with her pain.
Finally, Leucadius sighed, breaking the tension in the room with the sound of his voice. "Enough of this," he said, his voice quiet but firm. Without another word, he stood from his seat and began to walk toward the exit, his every step graceful and unhurried, as though the chaos around him barely existed.
The others turned to watch him, confusion crossing their faces. Sersi opened her mouth to ask him where he was going, but no words came. It was Sprite who broke the silence first.
"Wait, are you seriously leaving?" Sprite called after him, her small frame tense as she glanced between him and the others.
Leucadius didn't stop. "She'll be fine," he said over his shoulder, his tone carrying the weight of certainty. "This child was never meant to be born without struggle."
Sprite, after a brief hesitation, sighed in frustration. She cast a glance back at the others, her young face drawn into a frown. "I can't just sit here," she muttered, and without another word, she hurried after him, her feet barely making a sound as she followed him out of the room.
The remaining group exchanged uncertain glances. Ajak seemed ready to call Sprite back, but something in Leucadius's confident exit stopped her.
There was nothing more they could do.
They were out of their depth, trying to manage an event that surpassed even their considerable abilities.
Leucadius walked down the quiet halls of Asgard, his expression as calm as it had been before. The distant sound of Thena's pain was fading now, replaced by the quiet hum of the air.
However, the quiet didn't't last as Sprite caught up to him, falling into step beside him with a scowl.
"How can you be so calm?" she demanded, her voice betraying her frustration. "Thena's in there, practically destroying everything in sight in pain, and you just… walk away?"
Leucadius glanced down at her, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Do you think this is the first time Thena's been in pain? She's fought countless battles. Her strength is boundless. And our child—" His gaze turned distant, as if he were seeing something beyond her comprehension. "Our child will be born from that strength."
Sprite huffed, folding her arms. "You're too calm for your own good."
Leucadius chuckled softly, his laughter warm and unhurried. "Perhaps. But some things were never meant to be rushed, Sprite. Not this. Everything happens in its due time."
They walked in silence for a while, the sounds of Asgard's quiet halls filling the space between them.
Thena's labor continued, and in the waiting room, their companions anxiously awaited the outcome of what would surely be one of the most significant moments in the history of the Eternals.