Chapter Text
Seraph.
He had never really liked his name, but at least it had been his. Nothing else was, everything else was temporary and not for him to keep. He had no home, he had no family, he had no people. He was a lab animal, a singular specimen created out of arrogance and greed, kept forcibly separate from his human half and treated like his alien one. Othered and ostracized, until he had no other option but to accept what he was and behave accordingly.
There were many planets in many universes where Helian mates settled in to bear their young. Where they found intelligent species, they infected enough of them to serve their purposes, then wiped out the rest and went about their lives as usual. They were predators from the starstream, they had been existing in this way since the beginning of existence itself.
And yet, when he behaved as nature dictated, it was a problem. He had endured a world that beat him down until his only choice was to bite back, and then he had settled quietly in a crater at its northern pole. One planet, out of hundreds strewn across the universes that were similarly conquered. He did not move to spread his conquest or seek out more power. He defended himself from potential rivals and enemies, but otherwise did not try to expand his reach. He could have remained in his little paradise forever, alone with Genesis and Angeal, until the stars burnt out and the universe collapsed in on itself.
And even then, he’d already had what he wanted. There would be no need to conquer another living planet in a new universe, a dead one would do. All he wanted was them and his solitude, the safety and permanence of a place to finally call home. But he didn’t get to have that. Nevermind that there were still-living Helians in his own lineage out there, ravaging planet after planet, hunting and infecting and destroying and spreading. The gods were fine with that, that was in their nature.
But he was, once again, something Other. He didn’t hunt in their predictable patterns, he wasn’t driven by catching prey. He wasn’t Helian enough, wasn’t savage enough to count, did not get the grace of “it’s in his nature.” He was a monster to his human side and a human to his monster side, unwanted by either and looked down on by both. Just trash, there to be made use of when needed and discarded after. He did not get things, he would have to be recognized as deserving by at least one side for that, and so they were stripped away at the convenience of whoever held power over him in the moment.
Humans took his parents, his childhood, his autonomy. They took his body, laying claim to it for their experiments and research. They took his freedom, keeping him a captive unless he was deployed to serve their needs. They took his dignity, trading him and his likeness both as a commodity.
The gods and Helians took more. His home, his friends, his defenses. The one from whom he was created discarded him as garbage once he’d desperately done her bidding, an unwanted descendant whose human weaknesses disgusted her. He’d had to fight to get the few scraps that he had, only to have them taken to bait him into aggression as an excuse to knock him back down.
And in the course of their cruelty, they’d even taken his name.
He was not Seraph. “Sephiroth” wasn’t some label reserved for a beaten-down and defeated man, to be removed and replaced when he stopped being malleable. His identity was not dependent on whether others wished to think of him that way or not, it was not negotiable. A pathetic Shinra bootlicker who voluntarily joined the company’s crusade did not get to decide he was unworthy of his own name just because that company loyalty brought him exactly what he deserved for it.
He did not stop being “Sephiroth” just because Cloud Strife wanted to differentiate him from a more palatable, fuckable model.
* * * * *
The gods did not differentiate between thoughts and speech, one was simply a different form of the other, but Hel did not respond to the self-pitying monologue running on repeat in the little Helian’s brain. He was a child in the literal sense, only a few decades old and released from his physical shell well before his time, one could not expect him to have a complete grasp of the actual shape of existence around him.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to listen to it for long.
Unlike other gods, Hel didn’t reign over a collection of universes or timelines. Her realm was the Starstream, the vast sea of energy that flowed between universes and dimensions, the dark underworld of existence through which non-physical entities swam. Physical worlds were for gods who required mortal worship to give them power, and she did not have any in her kingdom.
But Hel had known, when she requested for Odin to remove two of her children from Gaia’s inept hands, that Cloud Strife would succeed where the gods’ own rules kept them from interfering. She had known that five Helians would eventually be victorious over one, that the lifestream stolen and absorbed by Sephiroth in one of Gaia’s timelines would eventually be coaxed free.
She had also known it would take time, and that the recovered lifestream had been gone for too long to be replaced in Gaia’s universes without causing issues. And since it was her wayward children who had caused the issue in the first place, she’d known it would be her responsibility to set it right.
So the new universe was already there. It was still and lifeless, not yet activated, copied from one of Odin’s worlds and waiting to be turned “on.” All it needed was the sea of life it had been created to hold, and that had now been returned.
“My Lady?”
The Valkyrie who stepped out onto the balcony was the same one who had originally moved Cloud between worlds. One instance out of millions, of a woman named Ifalna. Like all Valkyries, she had been removed from some mortal timeline at some point while wrinkles were being ironed out, and given messenger duties due to issues putting her back. She was fine…not one of Hel’s favorites, given that she had been a Cetra in life, but not anyone she found unbearably annoying.
“Your grandfather says everything is ready.”
Odin was the one who created this world for Hel to watch over, since she had no experience in creating physical worlds herself. But she did have a few opinions.
“It doesn’t use his stupid marking system, does it?” Hel asked.
“No, Lady.”
Hel didn’t believe in soulmates or assigned packs. Having a name written on one’s arm or a pack mark on their thigh might help them find their place quicker, but it smothered the flames of passion and curiosity and set people on direct, unyielding paths. In a way, such things were a prison, locking people into an unchosen fate from the moment they were born.
She would not be associated with such things. This world would, however, still have the additional sex designations as the one from which it was copied. There was only so much customization that could be done on short notice, her delightful little charge would just have to deal with being an omega this time around.
“Thank you. I will deliver the lifestream, would you do me the favor of collecting my guest?”
Ifalna bowed and disappeared as Hel returned inside, collecting the shimmering jewel of aqua materia that held an entire Planet’s will, knowledge, and people. No one bothered her as she left the room and went down the stairs, crossing a parapet to open a heavy wood and steel door.
Ifalna was right behind her now as she stepped out onto an island of gray rock floating under a vast sea of stars. The Edge of Creation was a boundary, a borderland between physical universes and the Starstream, dotted with stone isles just like this one all throughout. Hel stopped at the edge to look out, as the dark void swirled into a view of a beautiful blue planet.
Frozen, waiting. A snapshot of a universe in the human year [μ] – εγλ 1984, one year before the birth of Cloud Strife. It was necessary to rewind this timeline to that point, since Cloud had been relocated to a different universe and a new version of him needed to be created and born.
Hel released her hold on the compressed lifestream, allowing it to expand. It spilled over her hands in delicate, glowing tendrils, running across the rock to pour over the edge. Into the waiting universe it went, drawn to the planet created to house it. Ifalna offered the small, silver light that flickered in her fingers.
“What makes you think anything will be different this time?” Ifalna wondered as Hel unwound the light, twisting it into silver threads that tangled with those of the lifestream, leaving it to be pulled along into the waiting universe. “You’ve bound him back into a physical body and wiped his memory, he has nothing to learn from. And he won’t change if nothing else has.”
“One thing has changed,” Hel replied. “Gaia wanted a villain, so she stacked the odds against him to create one. But there is no living Helian here, there will be no conscious Jenova to exert influence; his choices will all be his own and so will any consequences. And while other gods may be cruel to my children, I am not. He was a hero in his own right before his fall, and I will reward that.”
Ifalna watched the silver and aqua disappear, dissolving into the world that waited. Down below, the new universe began to move. Planets began to rotate, stars began to spark, black holes began to pull in nearby matter.
“How?”
Hel held up a finger, and the air around it shimmered. Softly colored light took form, twisting into the delicate wings of a butterfly, and she leaned in close.
“With one useful piece of knowledge.” She released the tiny construct into the ether, whispering as it flitted away, “Wake up.”
* * * * *
Sephiroth scowled and slapped lightly at his face, rubbing away the tickling on his nose as he rolled over on his side. The cot was hard and the blanket was thin but he was almost six, he was old enough to have learned how to sleep even when he was uncomfortable. Just like he was old enough to have learned how to sleep through almost anything, since nobody in the Research & Development Department ever took into account whether he was sleeping while they ran their experiments and made noise.
Going back to sleep wasn’t usually difficult, since he’d also learned how to fall asleep anywhere and in any position, to make up for the times they didn’t let him rest. Unfortunately, tonight was one of those rare times when his bladder decided he had to get up and move.
With a sleepy groan, he padded across the barren metal room. He noticed the chill of the floor against his bare feet but only barely, just like he noticed the cold air against his bare arms and did nothing about it.
Discomfort is just a sensation to let the body know there’s a problem, he was often told. It’s a signal to the brain you can learn to ignore. The cold was as habitually ignored right now as pain, high heat, and the burning of a breath held too long.
The door wasn’t locked since he wasn’t being punished for anything, and nobody was out in the hall as he wandered tiredly out into the lab. The bathroom was all the way down at the other end, a single all-gender room with a row of stalls and sinks, different from the ones he’d used up until last year but still ultimately the same.
Sephiroth had some concept of being in a different place now, but only because the layout was different. It was the same metal walls and floor, the same windowless rooms filled with strange equipment and computers. There were a lot more tests since last year, a lot more needles and a lot more examinations, and he didn’t really like it.
“Do you have to take it all?”
Sephiroth froze, trying to identify the voice. He didn’t think he’d get in trouble for walking around since he wasn’t touching anything, but it was hard to tell sometimes. Life had changed drastically in the last year, people had far less patience with him and often ignored him entirely, and he still wasn’t sure what he did wrong to make it happen.
“Yes, all of it,” Sephiroth knew that voice, it was Professor Gast. “If what you say is true, it could be very important.”
Sephiroth crept to the open office door, peeking carefully inside. Gast came into view, haphazardly shoving folders into a briefcase on the desk, disappearing across the room to grab more. With him was that brunette woman who’d showed up in the last few months, Gast had brought her back from a trip he’d made to the Knowlespole. Sephiroth had never talked to her but he knew she didn’t like him from the way she looked at him when they occasionally passed in the hall.
“Of course what I said is true. You need to get rid of that thing.”
“And I will, in time,” Gast promised. “But that will have to wait until the heat dies down a bit. For now, it’s locked away safely. I made sure nobody knows where that original sample is stored.”
“What about its spawn?” She asked.
“What about him?”
“You know what it is.”
“There won’t be a problem,” Gast said. “Patience isn’t in Hojo’s nature, he’ll get bored and move on in a few years. At that point he’ll put down any living specimens and dissect them for fun.”
Sephiroth was tempted to knock and ask what Gast was doing, what experiment they were talking about, but a nagging little feeling told him not to. Back when they lived in the other place, Gast used to be really nice to him. He made sure everybody else was nice too, or at least nicer than they usually were.
But something had changed. Ever since right before they came here, Gast didn’t seem to want him around as much. He was never outright mean about it, but Sephiroth no longer felt as welcome in his presence.
So he walked away. Whatever Gast was doing must be important if he was up in the middle of the night, and what the woman had to do with it…Sephiroth didn’t really care. He went to the bathroom, standing on his tip-toes to wash his hands since he was too short to comfortably use the sink, then headed back to his room to go back to bed.
The office was empty when he came back, but the briefcase was still on the desk. Gast and the woman must have gone to grab something else. Curiosity got the better of him, and he tiptoed over to see what was in the case, picking up a file from the top.
Protomateria in Ancient Scripture – Grimoire Valentine
Nothing Sephiroth recognized. He picked up a few more folders.
Chaos As a Planetary Defense – Redacted.
Project G – Marcus Hollander.
Project S – Hojo Ishioka.
Sephiroth knew Hollander, he was a much less stuffy scientist that Hojo couldn’t stand and was always talking about behind his back. He didn’t know what anything else meant, though.
Jenova Project 0 – Gast Faremis
Jenova. That was his mother’s name, Hojo had told him that only a few months ago. But all he’d say was that she died, not that she did experiments with Gast.
Sephiroth opened the thick file, but his rising hopes were quickly crushed. He didn’t understand anything on the handful of pages he looked at, it was all just as complicated as the experiment papers Hojo often left scattered on desks and tables. All science things, words he didn’t know and tables he couldn’t figure out, nothing like the small chapter books his tutor had him reading.
He did know Gast would probably be back soon, though.
He couldn’t ask. Hojo already got irritated any time Sephiroth asked about his mother, and Gast was already unhappy with him for something. But maybe there was a bigger chapter book in the library that could teach him how to understand experiments, then he could read about his mother for himself.
Gast was about to put these files away somewhere, though. Files only went into briefcases when they were being moved. There was no way for Sephiroth to ask to see it later without admitting he was here tonight.
There was a photo copier in the little office by the department entrance that didn’t need a code. It was old and slow, on its last legs, used by interns who were only ever here for a few days and didn’t have access yet to all the shiny newer equipment. Sephiroth pulled a chair into the little room and climbed up onto it, feeding the pile of papers into the top like he’d watched the harried teenagers do.
The drawer with cheap, blank thumb drives didn’t have a lock either, Sephiroth plugged one into the machine like he’d seen others do. He was sure he’d be caught as it grumbled and growled to life, keening and groaning with every page it scanned, but the rest of the lab remained quiet and still.
He didn’t know how long it took to copy the whole file, only that it took too long. Sephiroth was just putting the folder back into the briefcase when he heard the elevator arrive, and sprinted out of the room to hide under a desk.
“There it is,” Gast sighed as he went into the office. Sephiroth heard the briefcase click closed.
“You’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached,” the woman scolded.
“Could have sworn I shoved it in the box before we left,” Gast replied. “All right, let’s go. We need to be on our way.”
Sephiroth stayed hidden until he heard the elevator again. The footsteps were gone and the labs were once again quiet, leaving him to pad back to his little room and close the door behind him. He clung to the thumb drive like his life depended on it; it was the only clue he’d ever stumbled across that might point to his mother, and it needed protecting at all costs.
Nobody ever checked his room, so he knew the hole he ripped in the corner of his cot pad would likely never be noticed. The thumb drive tucked safely inside, hidden right by his head as he settled back in. Sleep was harder to come by then, no matter how hard he tried.
Tomorrow, he was going to start learning about science, so he could read and learn about his mother.