Chapter Text
Wemmbu was fifteen years old and a mother of three - apparently.
He's not actually a mother. Of coursed not! He's a man.
At the ripe old age of five years old, Wemmbu's mother stopped by 'their' (it was really only Wemmbu's, his mother rarely checked on him) cottage. It was a little strange, she had already visited that season so he wasn't expecting her back so soon.
What shocked him more was the little bundle in her arms. Wrapped in a green blanket that was suddenly shoved into his small hands was a brown haired baby with golden eyes - the same colour as Wemmbu's and his mothers. The baby had tiny, fleshy wings cupping his own face and Wemmbu could feel what was probably another set on his back through the swaddle.
Holding a baby for the first time had been strange, a tiny body wriggling in his arms. The baby was kind of heavy and Wemmbu had thought that maybe the wings gave him extra weight. Still, the demonic boy didn't waver in holding the baby, only turning stare at his mother with a questioning expression.
His mother had lit a cigarette, blowing smoke out inside the house, "It's your brother. And your problem now."
Wemmbu paused, he was supposed to take care of a baby?! But the five year old could barely take care of himself!
The baby shifted in his arms, a small whine escaping. Wemmbu hushed the baby gently, swaying a bit to rock them. Wemmbu wasn't very conscious of his actions, guided only by some faint instinct to sooth the child.
"All of his shit is in the bag," she threw a bag onto the floor next to the couch before standing and walking to the door, "Good luck~!"
Wemmbu had watched her leave, thinking to himself that she was a selfish, manipulative and stupid woman. All the things he'd heard the other villagers whisper behind his back when he wandered out to the town square to buy food.
At least she left him some money every time she visited.
While learning how to raise a child, Wemmbu had almost given up. The feedings every few hours, the diaper changes, the crying, it was all too much for a five year old. He had considered just dropping the baby off on someone's doorstep and being done with it.
However, there would be times when the baby would giggle and smile at him, reaching out with all his strength to just touch his older brother. And Wemmbu would give in. He'd hold the baby and cry quietly, the stress of it all fading away.
So he kept the baby.
He'd eventually named him Parrot, after the feathers on his wings started to come in and showed the pattern. Listen, Wemmbu was six at the time. He was not a creative six year old.
So, for another five years, Wemmbu became his younger brothers guardian. He was there to cook and clean for him, to teach him how to talk, walk and use the toilet. It was hard - a mess really - but he did it. They survived.
He had help! One of the villagers helped teach him how to cook, clean, farm and fight! The man - a lion hybrid named Manepear - said that he admired Wemmbu's drive to keep both himself and his brother alive and well.
So, Wemmbu had Parrot and Mane to help him!
And then - five years later - his mother shoved another bundle into his arms before rushing off.
This baby screamed. He screamed so loud that Parrot - who was holding onto his leg - backed away and covered his ears. Wemmbu had winced and rocked the baby with a familiar motion, hushing him as he rushed to the kitchen.
Wemmbu was lucky that he kept all of Parrot's baby things. He pulled out a bottle, boiling some water and dunking the glass in, letting the heat wash away any dust that had built over years of storage. He instructed his little brother to pass him some of the milk in storage.
After heating the milk up and filling the now dry bottle, Wemmbu pressed the warm nozzle to the exhausted and upset babies mouth, sighing in relief as he quieted and gulped down the milk. Wemmbu had to take the milk away at times so the baby wouldn't choke, causing him to whine.
Finally calm and full, the baby yawned and opened his eyes. Golden - just like Wemmbu, Parrot and their mother - truly of their blood. The baby had dark skin, a stark difference to Wemmbu's lilac colored skin and Parrot's tan.
The baby cooed, reaching up to hold Wemmbu's finger. This baby was like Wemmbu - a demon hybrid. Except Wemmbu was an End demon while this baby was probably - judging by the temperature of his skin and the little embers on the end of his tail sticking out of the swaddle - was a Nether demon.
He was larger than Parrot was, much heavier too. Thankfully, Wemmbu was now ten years old (nearly eleven!) and Mane had been training him to build more muscle. Carrying a slightly large baby was easy for him!
…
Are babies supposed to have such large heads?
…
Hopefully this baby would grow into it.
"Can I see?" Parrot tugged at Wemmbu's pant leg.
The older boy chuckled and sat on the couch, gesturing for his brother to come over. Parrot climbed next to him and peered into the swaddle, his wide eyes staring into the babies eyes. The baby reached out and grabbed the finger the avian had used to poke his cheek, giggling wildly. Parrot's head wings twitch as he let out his own giggle.
Wemmbu smiled, mentally making a list of what he'd need to get and what he already had left from Parrot's younger days. His schedule would be stretched thin for a while. On top of his training with main, household chores, taking care of Parrot and his odd jobs around the village, Wemmbu also had another baby to take care of.
But he managed.
Even if he was steadily getting more and more stressed.
…
Mane had taught him how to use a mace! It was fun, being blasted into the air and smashing it down! He even had his own mace - Gambit!
He had more jobs now that he was older. People are more likely to hire a strong fifteen year old than a scrawny ten year old. It certainly made getting money easier!
Parrot and Flame - once again, Wemmbu's amazing naming skills in action - had been growing perfectly. His brothers were smart and healthy and that was all Wemmbu could ask for. Wemmbu had done a great job raising them, in his humble opinion.
Parrot was his smart little bird. The boy was hungry for knowledge and Wemmbu had collected basically half a library for the boy. He had interest everywhere and that had caused him to gain a lot of different skills just by reading! He had improved their farm just by reading about farming, meaning they didn't have to buy as many crops come late winter.
Flame was a strong little spitfire. He had gained an interest in fighting and protecting both of his older brothers, using a small stick sword to fight off all of the 'bad guys'. Wemmbu would have to talk to Mane about possibly training Flame as well.
It had finally begun to be peaceful in their house, so - of course - his mother came to ruin it.
Almost sixteen and another baby was in his arms.
His mother didn't even wait, just shoved the bundle into his arms the second he opened the door and ran.
Bitch.
Wemmbu sighed as he looked down to the new baby in his arms, hushing the small whines from - what seemed to be - a voidling. The baby opened his eyes, completely white aside from the golden pupils staring up at him. The baby blinked and giggled, reaching up with a squeal.
Despite his annoyance at his mother, Wemmbu smiled down at the very vocal baby.
He bounced the baby gently as he walked, "You are very loud, I'm calling you Spoke."
The baby - Spoke - squealed in delight as he walked off to introduce all of his younger brothers.
And mentally make another list of things that he needed for a new baby.
Wemmbu hoped that woman would just leave him alone and wouldn't show up with another baby in five years time.
Please.