Victory (However Long and Hard the Road Might Be)

Summary:

The first time Enma was born, he accidentally strangled himself with his umbilical cord and died an hour before his small, lifeless body would surface from the womb.

From above, Adelheid looked down, sighed and spoke: ''Again.''

Disclaimer: I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn

The first time Enma was born, he accidentally strangled himself with his umbilical cord and died an hour before his small, lifeless body would surface from the womb.

From above, Adelheid looked down, sighed and spoke: ''Again.''

The fourth time Enma was born, he did remarkably well right up to his second month, when he caught the flu and succumbed to it overnight. His body wracked with shivers, too hot, too cold, then six feet under.

Adelheid floated down, grit her teeth and spoke: ''Again!''

The sixteenth time Enma was born, he made it to five years old. He dreamt of soaring the skies like a bird, exploring the great unknown, forgetting that he was made for the dark, fresh earth below. He climbed the shed, spread his arms like wings, closed his eyes and leapt from the roof. In the fall, he flew for one, endless second. Then he smacked down, air rushing past him, collided with the ground and died in an instant.

Adelheid came down, kicked the shed, studied Enma's broken corpse, spine broken in six different places, and accepted that this kid was either way too dumb, or far too unlucky to survive without hands-on help.

''Again!'' she yelled.

The next life was different.

The Goddess was old. She remembered the high plains, she remembered the children born there. But in all her years, she remembered only one child who tempted her to take a physical form. It had been a small, redheaded teen, with a singing soul that reached for her, with life-loving, all-consuming want.

He had gazed up at her, childish pout in place, that very first time they met. ''I gave you my name, why won't you give me yours?''

Rude, priestess, impolite! She could read in his tone, but she was no priestess, she was a Goddess. Besides, it was not unwillingness preventing her from giving him what he wanted. ''I don't have one.''

Simon puffed his chest out, raising a finger as if he knew all things the world had to offer, as if he were wiser than the oldest crone. ''All living things have a name!''

The Goddess raised an eyebrow at the child, for he could be no more than fifteen summers old. ''Then I suppose I am above being alive.''

Simon's forehead creased, hand falling down. '…No one is above being alive. You can only go sideways from being alive. And the only thing 'sides life is death.''

The Goddess shrugged. ''I still do not possess a name.''

Simon beamed and took her hand. ''Then I'll give you one!'' His eyes slid over her visage, her piercing grey eyes, her flowing white gown and the way she rose from the ground like a tree, her long hair black as night sky between the branches. A ceremonial knife glinted at her side. ''You look like a priestess. Noble, sorta. Adal… No, just 'noble' doesn't sound right,'' he narrowed his eyes, tugging at her skirt. She leaned down, quietly amused by his earnestness.

''Adal… Adalheidis. You're a kind of noble.''

She shook her head, and rose again, reaching for the berries on top of the shrub, where Simon could not reach. Picking the red pearls, she handed him all but one.

Simon frowned at the berries, gaze flickering to the single berry she still held in her hand. ''Are you sure you want me to have them all?''

And with the baring of her teeth in a facsimile of a laugh, she broke the last berry on her bottom lip, red juice spilling across it like blood, dripping from her chin, staining her white garment.

Leaning forward, the Goddess gripped his shoulder and kissed his forehead.

The print left behind was darker than it should have been, and Simon carried it for the rest of his life.

Adalheidis. Simon named her, and he was hers.

As were his brethren, from that day forth.

The boy knew not he had met a Goddess, until he awoke in his bed, and realized there had been no woman at all.

(Adelheid had been tempted, but not even for Simon had she become mortal)

It was simple. Every few generations, a child like Simon came along within the ranks of his descendants. A child with visions, a child with pride, a child… A child who would become a leader larger than life.

A child that inspired Adalheidis to renew the berry-bled vow, to remain the patron Goddess of those who wore Simon's name, their Goddess of Victory.

Cozart was one of them. Enma was not.

Simon, Eydís, Adalwyn, Isaiah, Durante, Viviana, Cozart.

Seven names engraved upon her heart. They all sang, like the break of dawn, a new era, a come on.

Enma hummed a lonely song. He was unfortunate, unlucky, but godforsaken, he was not.

Adel didn't know why he drove her this far. Why the hell she gave up her godly powers for the life-span of a child that didn't even call out to her. Why… She knew why.

She possessed no pity, but she did possess pride and had, dare she say it, become proud of this pathetic creature Cozart's line produced. Enma died. So easily, so much. But she let his life start over, again and again, and every time, he got further along, if only just a little. Crawling, dragging himself to the temple, to her church, each and every life.

Adel was invested, and she wants to see this boy grow up. Preferably without doing his life over millions of times.

So that was it.

The seventeenth time Enma was born, it was not marked by his birth, but by the birth of the toddler that stood by his cradle. A Goddess given human form, thirsting for what his life would bring.

(A human form, made for human powers only)

The Simon prayed, begged, screamed for their Goddess' help that night, but as they were mowed down, nothing but flowers yanked at until their stems snapped, Adelheid was forced to listen, unable to do a thing but hide, her mortal body a shell, a curse, a shock-bound child.

The slaughter of the Simon wiped more than a hundred people out, leaving naught but seven children alive.

And for the first time, Adel, the human, cried.

For humans, there was no ''again''. Enma did not remember his previous lives, cut short so quickly. ''Again'' was for gods, for goddesses, and Adel had given up her immortality.

Adel forged war fans out of priestess knives, the ashes of her divinity. She gathered the remnants of those she once protected. She began teaching sad, broken, done-for Enma pride, fed him anger until his hopelessness turned revenge-hungry like she had never seen before. It was red, it was hateful, it was unlike Enma but he wore it so well and for all his misfortune, she loved him.

She had to live with this tragedy.

And she would accept no less than victory, the total decimation of those who took what was theirs.

For humans, there was no ''again''. Adel would die, and never stand up again, if she were killed in this life.

So this time, it would come to pass as it had to.

Victory at all costs—

Victory in spite of all terror—

Victory, however long and hard the road may be,

for without victory, there is no survival.

- Winston Churchill

Notes:

After my previous KHR deity AU featuring Bianchi, Tsuna and Hibari, I felt like more!

Some of my research:

1. Adelheid's name comes from the Germanic name Adalheidis, which was composed of the elements adal "noble" and heid "kind, sort, type". As someone who is Dutch (where the name ''Adelheid'' is actually given to kids), I can tell you that this is literally readable in Adelheid too, but I wanted the older form *beams*

2. The religion system here is based on Germanic paganism. According to John Thor Ewing, as a religion it consisted of "individual worshippers, family traditions and regional cults within a broadly consistent framework"

3. The association Simon makes between Adelheid and a Germanic priestress wasn't just a description excuse- it was based upon something I thought was pretty cool: '' Germanic priestesses were feared by the Romans, as these tall women with glaring eyes, wearing flowing white gowns often wielded a knife for sacrificial offerings''