The realm of Vhaayn
Two more fallen...Gods grant me vengeance.
From atop his throne, Netzach looked down on his kneeling children. All had gathered, for yet more had fallen to the enemy. Tears were becoming less common now, the number of siblings lost had hardened them to grief. He deemed this as both positive and negative a thing, as whilst gaining strength in all things was the way of their people, becoming cold to the loss of family...was not something the Divine Lord wanted.
So close this time...so close.
He'd already offered his prayers to the Gods, so Israfel and Isrefael's souls would be sped on their way to Rihuv. Now he had to focus on the present and continue to press this strange war.
"Any suggestions?" He boomed.
There were none. The closest thing they could field to a coordinated unit had been slain, despite coming so close to final victory. Had it not been for that wretched Purple Devil, the forces of NERV may well have been destroyed in that first engagement.
Little wretch. You, a mere child, know not what powers you insult. Perhaps before this war is done, you may yet taste Subjugation's bite.
His hand tenderly stroked his blade. If things continued as they did...these brats would have the privilege of experiencing his might before being erased from existence. But not yet, there were still other things that needed trying.
"Bring one to me." He demanded.
You could have heard a pin drop in that room.
"How?" Matarael tilted his head, his mighty muscles bulging at their mere use.
"Lure them into battle, snatch one from under their noses, drag it back through my rift, and Haniel shall have my blessing to break every bone in its body until I get the information I desire." The harshness of his tone chilled all to the bone. Although his Heirs knew they weren't at risk from him, his wrath was a terrifying thing to behold. And now there was no mother to temper his rage.
It was understandable of course. Not much eclipsed the grief and fury of a bereaved father.
"Can it be done?" Bardiel said, curiously.
"If we gave them tempting enough bait...I don't see why not." Zeruel nodded to himself.
"All of that is unnecessary, I will rip every last thought from their minds for you, father-" Arael closed his mouth when Netzach raised his hand.
"I require someone who is still relatively sane, Arael." The Lord said.
"Yes, father..." The younger Seraph said, disappointed.
"Whom do we send?" Haniel inquired, already thinking of a strategy.
The Sovereign thought for a moment.
"Rogziel." He directed his gaze upon one who was once his successor.
"Father?" The usually angry Divine sounded surprised.
"I entrust this task to you. I can think of few who can wrestle so terrible a foe back to our lines." Netzach said with confidence. Rogziel was the Sovereign's Wrath, and had never failed in his duties. Thousands had died by his hand, heroes broken like brittle clay by his mere presence.
Of those who did not have his blood, he was the strongest.
Whilst confused and irritated by the idea of an operation that didn't involve savage violence, Rogziel accepted.
"It will be done, my Lord." He bowed his head.
"Good. Then our business here is concluded. All save Rogziel may leave." Netzach kept his gaze fixed on the "son" he had the most awkward relationship with. The rest bowed again, then quickly departed the throne room. With only the two of them left, the Divine Lord descended from his throne, until he stood directly in front of Rogziel.
"Walk with me." He commanded. His Wrath did not consider disobeying.
The grounds of the council chamber were well kept, many a flower blooming despite the strange environment they lived in. The ground was infertile to any and all sort of crops they ate, but things still grew. And they were tended to, for as a people who'd built their civilization in volcanic ash lands, the Aesylians were masters of agriculture.
Rogziel didn't pay much attention to any of this. It was all about as relevant to him as Matarael prancing around in nothing but his loincloth, which he did so irritatingly often.
Why oh why can he not put on even the simplest of armour?
The two of them slowly paced around the "gardens", the elder clad in white armour and royal black cape, the younger in red armour and white cape, an air of awkwardness stifling conversation. Whilst he did feel genuine love for this man who was his father in all but blood, the white haired Divine knew it had always been this way. Understandably, considering his blood father was the traitorous usurper, Yesod.
Netzach's murderous and long dead elder brother.
He had no love in his heart for that man, and never would. That day when he hit mother for simply speaking out of term...had pushed her children over the edge. As the true Lord's avenging armies descended upon Froay Klei, the capital of old Aesylia, Sachiel, Shamshel, Ramiel, Gaghiel, Israfel, Isrefael, Rogziel, and Sahaquiel, struck down their "father" in a fit of rage.
They'd expected death at the hands of the brother Yesod had wronged. The brother he'd murdered, and from whom he'd stolen his wife.
Yeschel.
But Netzach spared them. Be it either from convincing or threatening on behalf of their mother, or his own philosophy of "transgressions do not flow in blood," he did not only let them live, but took them under his wing.
For that, the children of Yesod were grateful. But still, even after all these eons, it was awkward.
"You wished for revenge, did you not?" The Divine Lord asked.
"Yes, father." Rogziel said.
"The best way we can exact vengeance for your siblings, is by understanding our enemy. When the enemy is known, so is their weakness."
"I want to kill them. I want them to writhe, and scream, and cry, as I rip their pathetic beating hearts out!" The younger Divine snarled, still seething with anger and loss at the deaths of his siblings. Guiltily, he did hold those who shared a blood father closer than those born from Netzach's loins. Now only he and Sahaquiel remained.
"We will, in due time." The Sovereign assured him.
"What? You act like these are just little set backs, is that all we are to you!" The younger roared, orange lightening flickering around him. Netzach fixed him with a stare that made his hot blood run cold. Thunder boomed in the heavens.
"I am Sovereign. I have matters to which I must attend without letting my personal feelings interfere. Do not mistake self control for a lack of care." Harshness hiding unfathomable grief wormed their way into his words. Rogziel relented, feeling a little ashamed.
"Answer me truthfully. Do you honestly feel that I value you less because of your father?" Netzach's gaze softened.
Rogziel nodded. Why would he think otherwise, after all his position as successor had been given to Zeruel when his younger brother had reached appropriate age. What else could that be but favouritism?
As if telepathically reading his thoughts, Netzach sighed.
"Zeruel is successor because of his strength...not because he is my blood." The Lord, a god like being, nervously reached out a hand and placed it on Rogziel's shoulder. The younger Divine did nothing to remove it.
"You, Sachiel, Shamshel, Ramiel, Gaghiel, Israfel, Isrefael, and Sahaquiel, are all Yeschel's children. You are all my heirs, and I am proud of you."
The Sovereign's Wrath, shocked, humbled, and touched, smiled as he felt his eyes water up.
"Thank you, father. I will not disappoint you." He shook slightly.
"I know you won't. You never have." Tenderly, the most powerful child of the mightiest warrior race to ever exist, pulled a man who was his son in all but blood into a gentle, and loving embrace.
One only a father could give.