Chapter Text
Azazel had good intentions when he snatched the child from the wrath of the ravine’s waterfall. He would take the child into his own custody when it had developed the teleportation powers he trusted it would inherit and was also old enough to not be terribly obnoxious and burdensome. When that time came he would use the child in his plot to wreak havoc and hopefully destroy the earth completely through dimensional manipulation, but all in due time. Perfectly good intentions.
What was going through Raven’s mind when she decided the best way to get rid of the boy was to catapult him into river’s unforgiving torrents? He didn’t rape her; this was all consensual, she proposed the idea before he did, she wanted a kid. It literally took no convincing whatsoever. Then she tries to kill it! The woman could be so damn unreasonable sometimes.
But whatever. He’d caught him and he loved her too much to hold a grudge. It didn’t matter as long as the baby was safe. Raven could take care of herself.
Now he was walking down a road, stepping as carefully as possible so as to not upset him from his slumber. He really didn’t know what he’d do if it woke up. Azazel shuddered at the thought. As far as he was concerned, crying children are worse than any shit anyone could ever deal with ever.
Azazel’s keen ears detected the car before he saw it. It was coming up the trail from behind him and his tail whipped back and forth violently as his brain flashed through its thought process. The reason he’d walked all this was so as to not upset the baby’s stomach with teleportation, but it didn’t matter if he shapeshifted- whoever was in that car would be suspicious of any person walking down a road in the middle of nowhere with an extremely young infant. He could see a hut on one of the many rolling Bavarian hills and it looked far too run down for anyone to be in it.
He didn’t know if it would make any difference, because he had never tried before, but he willed this port to be the smoothest he could muster.
Not to much surprise, it didn’t help and when the two exited the parallel dimension the newborn was lamenting his newfound nausea. Azazel groaned- he had avoided this for almost 4 hours but in the end it was inevitable.
Opening the door of the shack took a bit of work, but he was eventually able to break the door hinge in and found in old cot in the corner that he laid his jacket over before setting down the cacophonous bundle.
Knowing no strategy to stopping a baby’s cries other than let it sob itself to sleep, he exited the hovel and shut the door in an attempt to dilute some of the noise and give himself a moment to think.
Much to his vexation, the baby’s wails grew in volume when it realized it had been left alone. Azazel took a deep breath, gritting his teeth, willing himself not to storm back in and smother the damn thing. Instead, he sat down on the edge of the shack’s porch and thought. After a moment’s contemplation, he put his first two fingers against his temple. In all his time with mutants and super-beings, all the telepaths he had come across seemed to do it to increase or intensify brain power. Hell, he wasn’t a telepath, but maybe it could help him too.
Who would be willing to care for it for at least until it could run from danger itself? Better yet, a couple years more than that and it could teleport.
Azazel didn’t want it until it was, shrug, twenty or so. But he didn’t know of many accomplices of his that were exactly parental figures. It was kind of a big favor to ask someone, and it wasn’t because he didn’t want to raise it, he just knew he would do an awful job and it was better for the kid.
Urgh, why did Raven do this? Why couldn’t she just want to be its mother like she was supposed to? She was making this way more complicated than it needed to be.
There was no sense in blaming her though, he’d think of something…
“My god! Is that Satan?!”
Great. He thought he’d gotten away from the road.
Looking up from his intensive thinking, returning to the sound of soft baby sobs and, looking down, a line of caravans making their way through the hills rather than staying on the road. A woman was leaning out the window of her car pointing exaggeratedly at Azazel while others climbed out of their own trucks to take a look.
Why me… why today… why why why-
“Azazel? Azazel!”
Azazel’s eyes widened. “Margali?”
Sure enough, a bit down the road, Margali Szardos was handing a young girl to some other woman and jogging to meet him.
“Bozhe moy! Margali! Ah! I’m so happy to see you.”
“What are you doing out here? Is there a baby in there?”
Azazel’s smile faded. “Yes, well, humorous thing I happen to come across you, you wouldn’t happen to have any experience with children would you? Or just like them at all?”
Margali gave him a twisted smile. “I’m guessing you’ve gotten yourself into a predicament having to do with a child…?”
Azazel grunted an affirmative.
Margali watched him for a moment from the corner of her eye before letting herself into the hovel and approaching the bed and picking up the whining baby.
“How long did you leave it in here?”
“Probably… an hour or so. I’m not sure.”
Instead of berating him she just huffed. “Well when was it last fed?”
Azazel scrunched up his face. “Never, most likely, I’m pretty sure things moved from birth to angry mob quickly.”
Margali kept her plain demeanor, but Azazel could see the stricken expression underneath. She felt sorry for little thing.
“I trust you saw my own children out there?”
“You have your own? Wait, children- you have more than one?”
She snorted. “You’d know if you visited more often. Yes, a boy, Stephan, and a girl, Jimaine. More than I thought I’d ever have. Need this one taken off you hands?” she joked, holding the baby up to her face.
Azazel stared at her for a moment. This was too perfect. Suddenly Margali was a mother? He was not forcing her to be one but to just accept another into her brood?
“Actually, yes.”
Margali blinked in surprise. “I- oh,” the tiniest pause, then, with a smile, “Alright, but you owe me. I was hoping you’d let me get some food in him anyway.”
Azazel beamed. “Really?! I can’t thank you enough, believe me, this is much better for him-”
She laughed, just quietly enough to not upset the baby. “I can tell… just, promise me the next time you’re taking care of a baby you won’t just leave it alone in a tiny shack and sit outside and ignore it.”
“If no shacks, then I suppose I’ll have to rent a hotel room for the occasion.” he chuckled as she glared at him before smirking herself.
“It’s a boy?”
“Yes.”
“Does he have a name?”
“No, I suppose as his new caretaker you can have that privilege.”
“Hm… before Jimaine was born, I told myself if I had another boy I’d name him Kurt. So I suppose his name will be Kurt.”
Azazel watched contentedly as Margali stroked the fine hair on the bridge of Kurt’s nose softly. She looked back up and arched an eyebrow. “But you owe me! This is too big a favor to go without some payback!”
Azazel bowed theatrically, tail flipping into a question mark behind him. “But of course. Anything you ask, my dear woman, whenever you ask it.”
Margali curtsied. “I’ll hold you to that.” When he stood upright again, “I wish we could visit longer, but I fear my fellow circus members may be growing worrisome, and I think it’d be best if I found Kurt something to eat.”
Azazel nodded and kissed her hand, picking his coat off the cot.
“Good luck, Margali. Neyaphem children are an especially big handful, to my knowledge,”
“Wait, how-?” but he had already disappeared with the stench of brimstone.
The noise of the bamf awakened Kurt, reminding him of his hunger, and he began to cry again, and Margali sighed deeply as she exited the hut, her new son struggling in her arms, tail thrashing against her arms.
She returned to the parade of caravans, where everyone instantly crowded her.
“Margali, who was that?”
“Was it really the Devil?”
“There is a blue baby in her arms-”
“Everyone please!” she shouted. She felt Stephan and Jimaine cling against her legs. “That was not the devil, and this baby is not devil-spawn. That man was my friend, and this is his son. I’m going to take care of him. For a while.” she paused, feeling every eye on her. Her two biological children stared up at her, clinging to her skirt, worried questioning in their eyes. “I’d appreciate it if we could park the trucks for a moment before we continue.”
Margali cursed. The circus’ baby boom had been just a few years prior, now no one had any breast milk to offer and they were nowhere near any place that would sell baby formula.
Guilt ran through her- the first thing she was going to let this baby ingest in its entire life was a potion. Not a mother’s milk, full of nutrients and love, some kind of black-magic-induced-elixir, specially brewed by Margali Szardos. She grimaced as she poured the liquid from the tiny pot into an old bottle, screwed the rubber top on, and offered it to him.
Not to much surprise, it was not what he was looking for and he began to cry harder when she attempted to just pry it between his lips.
Eventually all she can do, in fear of his starving to death, is forcing it down his throat until he gives in and starts to drink it on his own.
She sighed with relief, turning to face her older two children.
“Mom, what is that baby for?” Five-year-old Stephan asked.
She chuckled at the childish question. “I’m not sure how to answer that, but he is your brother now and you are to treat him as such. You too, Jimaine, alright?”
They both nod before she kneels to present their new sibling. They both jump back in surprise, Jimaine letting out a small gasp.
“Mama, is he sick?” the three-year-old whispers.
“No, Jimaine, this is just the way he is, there’s no need to be afraid. Look at his little ears.” She tries to make this new proposal as likable and charming as possible.
Jimaine carefully pulls the blanket back a bit to get a better look at Kurt’s curved, pointed ears. Stephan leans in as well, and as she hoped, they smile in new approval.
“Whas’ his name?” the young girl asks, her eyes shining.
“Kurt,” Margali smiles, pleased with her children’s quick acceptance.