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Chapter Text

Ok, so you want to know the whole story? Ngk, ok. Let me start, let me start in the beginning. Or even before the beginning.
It was the night I first met him. The very first night. The night the stars where born.
I was there, out in the universe, preparing my nebulas. You know, stars are a lot like cookies, you have to prepare the matter, let them rest and then put them out in the universe for a few thousand years. And I was out there, mixing everything together, when he appeared. With his fluffy white hair and scruffy wings. Adorable.
But I was occupied preparing stars, so I didn't notice right away.
Should have known when he joined me then. Should have known, that he would become everything I want in this universe. But I was busy with the stars.
He helped me start it up. The engine of the universe. Let there be light and everything...
And when we looked at the stars being born together, I think I kind of felt it. Him, floating next to me. I wasn't alone anymore.
You know, God is a terrible conversation partner. Doesn't answer, ever.
But he did. That fluffy little angel was the first person who ever listened to me.

Chapter Text

The next time I met him was on the garden wall. God had given me the task to watch the new earth. From the distant, cool realms of heaven.
But when I saw him standing there on the wall, like a fluffy white chicken, I had to check up on him.

I tried to play it cool, but well, I didn't have much experience being cool back then.
So, my stupid angelic ass decided to comment on the whole first offense thing that had gotten Adam and Eve kicked out of the garden. They had, by the way, gotten them into trouble all by themselves. Apparently, a forbidden fruit tree in the middle of a garden is an unwithstandable temptation all on its own.

So, I said: "Well, that went down like a lead balloon."
He didn't understand me. Seemed occupied with something else. 
I tried again: "Didn't you have a flaming sword?"
The look he gave me was burning brighter than his sword had ever been.
"I won't tell God, I promise." I added with a cocky smile: "You lost it already, haven't you."
He muttered so silently I nearly didn't hear him: "I gave it away."

Silently, I was so proud of him, that he was already protecting earth and the humans, even though it had only existed for seven days and there were only two of them. A true principality.
I patted him on the shoulder: "No one will notice. It's not like there is a garden needing protection anymore, after all this."

Oh god, who gave this angel such blue eyes, that he was now fiercely pointing at me, slowly forming tears in the corners: "There isn't?"
"Aw, come on, angel. There is a whole earth out there. You will find something to protect."
He blinked through his tears: "Yes, yes I will. And it's Aziraphale."
"Nice to meet you, Aziraphale. You can call me Astrarian."
No real names on that day. And not on any day after. I never told him my actual name. Kind of hurts, now that I look back on it. Anyways, I still think he knows me better than anyone else...

He caught me off-guard, when he asked:
"Do you want to try an apple? Apparently they are delicious."
He pulled an apple from a pocket somewhere in his angelic robe. Who has pockets in their robe?
He bit a piece out of the apple crunching it between his teeth with a hum. Then he handed the rest over to me.

Of course I took it. From that moment on, we were an item.

Chapter Text

Apparently Aziraphale was trying to see as much of humanity's historical events as possible, as I met him again in Mesopotamia.
I was looking over his right shoulder for a while, when he finally noticed me.
He turned to me with a beaming smile: "Astrarian!"
"Oh, hello Aziraphale." 
He fidgeted nervously with his ring, looking at his hands, then asked:
"Can you tell me what's going on? I have seen all the preparations... But God will not actually flood the whole world, will she?"
I shrugged: "Nah, I don't think God is upset with the Chinese. Or the Native Americans."
He just nodded as an answer. Worried, he continued: "Is there anything we can do? These are good people. I have lived with them for a while."

I wanted to help him. Wanted to save all of these people. But God had decided. And back then I was not in a position to challenge her. I had actually suggested not killing everyone, some time earlier this week, but the Metatron had brushed off my question with a simple: "And how will the humans know what a rainbow is then?"

So I had to answer Aziraphale: "There is nothing we can do. God is angry and she will kill everyone she wants to kill."
He looked at me with his big blue eyes: "You told me I would find something to protect. You told me I could protect these people."
"Not from God, I fear", I answered him, but my heart broke a little. Maybe I should have crossed Gods plans right then and there.
When he said: "But not the children. You can't kill the children", I had to agree.
We set off to change what we could change. And miraculously, no one noticed, that the Ark was lying a few metres deeper in the water. Or that Noah's sons suddenly had a few hundred children after the flood.
And if God knows, she at least never asked me about it.

Chapter Text

I had come to check in on Jesus for a last time. A few years back we had travelled together, when he mentioned he always wanted to see the whole world. So, I had taken him on a little detour around the globe. Since then, I was very fond of the bright young man. I had put in a word for him upstairs, but God still didn't take suggestions. Especially not when the suggestion was not killing her only son. 
Watching him die, was the only thing I could do for him...

When I arrived in Golgotha, Aziraphale was already there:
I was still outraged about Jesus' fate, so my greeting was not the nicest: "Come to smirk at the poor bugger, have you?"
He seemed astonished: "Smirk? Me?"
"Well, what else are you here for?"
Aziraphale smiled: "I learned only recently about him. Heard him preaching about love and kindness. Maybe I hoped for a miracle, but I thought at least he shouldn't die alone."

Well, that seemed more like the principality I had met. Hoping for the best, trying to save anyone he could. But why did he always want to interfere with God's personal decisions. Couldn't he try to save some unimportant people for once.

I had to tell him: "No miracles today, I'm sorry. Apparently his death is needed for God's divine plan." I hoped he could hear from my tone that I did not agree with God on this topic.
"Did you ever meet him?", Aziraphale asked with the hopeful voice of a believer.
"Yes. Seemed a very bright young man. I showed him all the kingdoms of the world."

They didn't even introduce him to Jesus, while he was still around. Maybe upstairs had actually forgotten about Aziraphale. Well, I wouldn't remind them.

His next question confused me: "Why?"
"He's a carpenter from Galilee. His travel opportunities are limited.", I shrugged.

The sun set and Jesus was dying. We kept watching. Our presence was the only thing that we could offer him. Two angels, too afraid and obedient to interfere with God's divine plan. 

Chapter Text

By the time the Roman Empire hit it's peak, I had completely and utterly fallen in love with Aziraphale.
How could I not? He had taken on blessing the small people. Where Aziraphale was, the grass was always greener. People miraculously recovered from illnesses, crops brought twice the amount of fruit and somehow there was always time to tell a story.

It was rare that a day passed where I didn't check up on him.
Technically, it was one of my duties to have an eye on earth. It became one of the only duties I scrupulously performed.

I didn't want to visit Rome. It was a loud and smelly city, and I never had a fable for bread and circuses. But God had sent me to sort out the aftermath of her sons death and back then when God commanded I still mostly followed. But after a long day of work, I realized that Aziraphale would be in this city too, so I set out searching for him.

It was evening, when I entered a bar, because I knew he would be there. I was still thinking about an excuse why I would show up at such an establishment, when he already greeted me happily:
"Ah, Astrarian. It's good to see you."
I felt the smile stretch across my face and the happiness bubble up in my chest: "It's good to see you too." Before he could ask me what I was doing here, I asked: "What are you up to?"
He showed me his glass with a dark-red liquid: "This bar has the best wine in all of the Roman Empire."
"Wine, interesting", was all I could mumble, before he ordered me a glass and urged me to try it. It was not as if I never tried human food before, but alcohol had been off limits for me until now. Maybe because I knew how Gods eyes followed us everywhere, and I didn't want to say something I might regret later.
But when Aziraphale looked at me, I forgot all caution. We indulged in the wine and then he asked me if I wanted to try some other earthly delights: "There is a place, only a few streets away, where they serve the best oysters in Rome."
The lie left my lips easily: "I've actually never eaten an oyster."  
He took my hand and pulled me with him.  
"Well then it's time for you to try."

Chapter Text

We were sitting in a nice restaurant in Rome, a lot quieter than the bar where we met earlier. And Aziraphale was talking. The last few times I met him, he had been choosing his words wisely. But the wine made him tell me much more than he intended to. I wanted to see him like this more often. It was nice, to have someone trust me.

"I just wanted to stop by in Rome for a while", he explained: "Maybe be a good influence on some people and then leave again. But it caught me. I have met so many people in this city. From all over the world. This city, this whole empire, it's just brimming with life."
"Oh, and you long to stay here.", I smirked: "Enjoy this city as long as it lasts, angel."
"I will. I've met a young writer, Plinius. He mostly writes about his experience as an officer in Germania. He let me read some of his first drafts."

Aziraphales eyes seemed to twinkle, when he mentioned the writings. I think this was around the time when he first started liking books. He never quite explained to me what exactly it was that books meant to him. Only something about holding a story in hands and like people, only portable. But that was much later.

Aziraphale continued excitedly: "He invited me to his families summer house close to Pompeii. It will be so much fun to discuss literature with him. You should stop by some time, you would like him."

It took Aziraphale over 30 years to finally visit Plinius in Pompeii. Clearly a good place to discuss world literature, with the shadow of Mount Vesuvius lurking over them. 

Chapter Text

Well, I think now it's time for me to tell you about Pompeii. It's not a story I like to tell, but one that has to be told to understand the events that followed. Or rather the ones that didn't follow.

It was the year 79 AD. Aziraphale had been staying at Plinius' house in Misenum for about a month now. He seemed to enjoy himself, discussing literature and hearing the tales of Plinius' travels. He hadn't been much up north yet, so hearing his tales about Germania had made him curious to go there himself some time.
And technically, he had invited me to meet Plinius, even if it had been 30 years ago. At least that's what I told myself, when I went down to earth and walked the dusty road up to the villa.

Aziraphale was happy to see me, as always. And Plinius was a bit confused at first, but when Aziraphale introduced me as his friend, he flashed me a knowing smile. I didn't correct him.

They invited me for dinner. And then I stayed the night.
The next day, I found myself in the garden with Plinius, discussing his most famous work: The Naturalis Historia. He had taken in upon himself to catalogue all of creation. I was especially fond of his works on astronomy. He was especially proud of his writings about botany, zoology and medicine, and he found an avid listener in me.

Later that afternoon, he showed Aziraphale and me the harbour where he worked as a prefect.
We were currently discussing how superfluous it was to keep an entire naval army in the mediterranean sea, even though it was fully controlled by Rome - they didn't call it Mare Nostrum for nothing - when a dark cloud started forming on the other side of the bay.
"That thunderstorm is forming fast", Aziraphale remarked. "This is not a thunderstorm", I corrected him. "This is a volcano."
Plinius smiled at me: "Interesting word. I shall write about it in the next book of my Naturalis Historia. Let us go and investigate this wondrous cloud."
And before I could even say "Ngk", we had entered a ship and were on our way to the erupting volcano.

The water was calm and clear behind us, but in front of the ship, a darkness had spread. The ash swallowed all light. It collected on the surface of the sea, forming a dark grey film, that swallowed our reflections too, leaving us in an endless sea of grey.
Plinius frantically noted down every detail of this experience.

A sudden scream ripped us all from our thoughts and back into reality.
"Help!", a woman's voice cut through the mist: "Help us."
Without hesitation, Plinius commanded the men to steer the ship closer to the shore. Deeper into the ash, until we were surrounded by total darkness.
We heard the woman call out a few more times, but the ash rain intensified and the men had to turn the ship around to not kill all of us and the crew.

I felt it more than I saw it. A larger chunk of rock was heading directly for the ship. Before forming any coherent thought, I had grabbed Aziraphale. Within the blink of an eye, my wings were out and I catapulted us off the ship, into the sky.
I heard the crashing of rock into wood behind us. Screams. But I didn't turn. All I could think of was the angel in my arms. He was safe.
May the world burn. And it did.

Aziraphale struggled against my grip: "We have to help them!" He was a lot stronger than me, even back then. So I let him go. My angel.
Radiating like the sun, he dived into the ash cloud. I wanted to follow him, I really wanted to. But my wings refused to move, so I just floated above the water, tensely watching the tenebrosity. Until he emerged again.
And right behind him the ship. A big chunk of rock was stuck in the stern, still smoking. But other than that the ship and crew seemed fine.

Like the guardian angel he always was, and always will be, he led them to the shore, just south of Stabiae.
The men pulled the ship onto the shore and laid wood planks down for Plinius to unboard. He resolutely walked the path to the sand. Then he took a few steps more away from the sea, stumbled and collapsed.
Aziraphale was there before he hit the ground. Catching him, feeling his pulse. And shaking his head mournfully upon the asking glances of his crew.

As if some unknown tension was resolved, I could move again. I joined Aziraphale on the beach. But he didn't seem at all happy to see me again:
"This is all your fault!" Tears had collected in his eyes.
He gulped, looking at me like I was personally responsible for Mount Vesuvius' eruption: "It is your duty to protect the humans."
I think I had never been angry before this moment. But I would not take the fault for nature's or God's or anybody's tragedies: "No, it is your duty to protect humans. It is my duty to protect you. If you had stayed on that ship, this rock would have hit you and you would have been discorporated."
I was gesticulating wildly at the rock, the ship, the whole blasted volcano. "I am not even meant to be here. Much less interfering with anybody's life. Humans die, when they inhale too much smoke. There is nothing I could have done to prevent this." This - meaning Plinius dying. Plinius, who had been a friend to Aziraphale for half his short human life. Who I had come to also like quite a lot over the last two days. It was no use now.
  
Aziraphale looked at me with the saddest face I had ever seen on him: "Oh, Astrarian: Plinius didn't die because of the smoke. He died of shock."
  
It took me nearly 500 years to approach Aziraphale again.  

Chapter Text

I hadn't set foot on earth in a long while. Christianity had spread over Europe, reaching the North sea and finally seeping over to England, where it got into a fierce fight with Paganism.

One King finally got it to spread over the whole county, uniting the tribes under his regime. He not only united the peoples of Britain, but in his court, all men were treated equally. They sat at a round table, so everyone's voice might be heard. Even the women were allowed to speak and were honoured and admired. This king's name was Arthur. And Aziraphale once called him a good friend.

I had watched Aziraphale find his place at the king's round table from afar. The virtues of chivalry came so easily to him, I think he even invented some of them. He wasn't very good at riding horses, but in man-to-man combat with a sword, there had never been someone better than him. He had been the first to wield a sword, and he remained the best.

I watched him win all of his tournaments, spending far more time on the globe, that mirrors the events on earth, than I could rectify to any other angel. Thankfully, no one ever asked.

In the year 537, I received a prayer from Aziraphale. I had never received a prayer before, and I was so stunned to hear from him again, that I needed a moment to fully register it. Why would he talk to me? Had he finally decided to forgive me? Would he ever? And why establish contact like this? Angels didn't pray to other angels. It highlights the chains of power too much.

But when I listened closely to his words, I understood:

Astrarian, I call upon you. Please answer my plea.

I am with a dear friend of mine, who happens to be human. He has been gravely wounded and I don't know what to do. Can you come to my aid? Please.

My powers are not enough to stop him from dying, and I think his people will need him again. I will need him. I don't want him to go.

So, if you can hear me, please help me save him.

I had never been that fast on my way to Earth. You could have thought that I was a falling angel, had I not stopped right before hitting the Earth's surface.

I caught my fall only a few metres above a bloodied battlefield. What might have been fertile ground this morning, had been trampled over by hordes of armed men. Blood and soil had mixed to form deep-red mud. The smell of death hung in the air. This was the death of an era. And it had taken all its knights in shining armour with it.

Then I saw my angel. Aziraphale was kneeling over a dying man. I landed behind him, he hadn't noticed me yet. But the man did. His eyes didn't show fear, he seemed not even astonished. He just gave the smallest nod of recognition. He had probably found out about Aziraphale's true nature at some point. I couldn't blame Aziraphale for growing tired of lying to his closest friends.

I also recognized the man. I had seen him every time I checked up on Aziraphale in the last few decades. Dying in the mud before me lay King Arthur.

Nothing distinguished the king from the fallen knights around him. In his dying moments, he had finally achieved the brotherhood and equality that he had tried so hard to establish in his court.

Aziraphale turned around, hope spread over his face: "You came!"

"Of course I did."

He started wringing his hands: "Can you help him?"

I stepped forward, closing the distance between myself and the king. Then I bowed down, placing a hand on his bloodied forehead.

There were a million things wrong with his body. Open wounds, broken bones, iron in places where there shouldn't be any iron but deficiencies in almost every other micronutrient. Just stabilizing him would probably take me days. And we didn't have days.

I stood up. For this, I would have to call in a favour:

"I might not be able to help him", I said. "But I know someone who can."

I lifted my hands to the height of my heart and then grabbed onto the miracle and pulled it into existence. Neither from above, nor from below, but from beside me. The man who would help me with this one was human. At least partially. Jesus still owed me one from when I showed him the world.

A wine-filled chalice appeared in my hand. Simultaneously, I heard Jesus’s voice whispering instructions into my right ear.

That was a nice way to do it. "Thanks, old man", I whispered into the nothingness, before the connection faded.

I bowed down again and held the chalice to the dying man's lips: "This is the same chalice Jesus drank from on the last day of his life. Drink from it, and you will sleep and your wounds will heal. You may sleep under the mountains in the islands east of Britain and when one day, your people need you again, you shall return to save them."

Arthur gladly drank from the chalice.

The wine seemed to give him new energy. His shoulders straightened, and his eyes lost the cloudedness of death.

He propped himself up on one elbow, looking over the battlefield. Some of the knights had gathered around us, too tired to be afraid of me.

He gave me the chalice back and then spoke to his men: "Brothers, we have shared a table and a home for many years. It is your turn now to continue this legacy. Keep the peace in Britain. I trust you. And tell my wife that I love her and that even though I don't return home, I shall dream of her and she shall light my dark, lonely sleep."

As if these words had taken all of his energy, he collapsed. His head rolled to the side, but his breathing stayed steady. The king had begun his sleep.

While he had been talking, more knights had found their way to their king. Standing around us, now forming a complete circle. Wanting to check in on him, but accepting his fate.

One of them asked: "Can we keep the chalice? Maybe there will come another king that Britain can't exist without."

I shrugged. The chalice had done it's duty. But I couldn't tell them that, could I? So I held it up.

"The chalice will return to where it came from. Search for it, if you want."

With the last of my words, I let it vanish into thin air.

I might have sent the remaining knights on the infamous hunt for the holy grail with this one. Well, every legend has its cost.

At least they didn't bother us too much, when Aziraphale lifted the king up and carried him away. He carried him all the way to the coast and rowed him, in a small wooden boat, across the ocean to an island.

I left him to say goodbye to his friend on his own, but he showed me the cave a few hundred years later. Arthur’s wounds were healed by then, but he was still asleep. No one had woken him yet. Maybe the people of Britain don't need to. Maybe, if someone promised to be there for you in your darkest hour, every hour seems a little less dark.

Chapter Text

As Central Europe fell into the Middle Ages, Aziraphale left. Or maybe it fell into the Middle Ages because he left. Because his presence didn't shine bright to guide even the loneliest traveller safely home. 

I had mentioned the Chinese to him, three and a half millenia earlier. It seemed like he finally got around to visiting them. And obviously, he walked there.
I was keeping an eye on him, because travelling alone can be dangerous, even for an experienced angel who has walked the earth since the days of creation.
But somehow, he didn't need me. He walked south and passed through the remains of the Roman Empire. He drank wine in Greece, bathed in the Black Sea and helped to harvest honey in Türkiye. He walked through deserts and over mountains and wherever he stepped, civilizations and wealth bloomed. I don't think he ever noticed.
The year he wandered through India, the monsoon hit at the perfect time and neither flooded too much nor left any fields barren. In autumn, he passed over the mountains to China.

He spent some months in a beautiful little village, and that was when he prayed to me again. This time, I think, he just wanted to show me how beautiful it was.

Astrarian
I know you probably have a wonderful view of the stars from your office in heaven.
But I would love to show you the night sky from down here.

He was always better at tempting than me. So I filed away my work and made my way to this village in the mountains.

Aziraphale had become acquainted with the farmers of a small mountain village in China. I arrived in the end of winter, shortly before they were sowing the rice for this year.
I had been intrigued to learn more about the beautiful practice of farming, where humans grew plants from seed, cared for them and finally harvested them for food. It had been around for a few thousand years now, but I never came around to actually investigate it.

I decided to walk up the mountain path to the village passing in between bare fields. Aziraphale must have been looking for me. He noticed me when I still was far away.
A smile spread over his face and he came running towards me: "Astrarian!"

He built up momentum, running down the hill towards me. In the heat of the moment, I opened my arms and caught him in a hug.
Which he reciprocated. Was that what we were doing now? Hugging?
I slowly let him go, so that I could look at his face: "Aziraphale, I missed you."
He laughed at me: "You could have visited anytime, you know."
Well, he had me with that one: "I had things to do. You know, stuff, hmmmgk."
"I know, your work for the Almighty is top secret", he smiled his forgiving smile that I am now far too well acquainted with.
I wouldn't tell him that I had spent the last 10 years in front of a globe, following every one of his footsteps. Maybe I should have reached out to him. Not waited for him to ask for me. But I was here now and I would make the best of it.

He invited me for dinner that evening. And every other evening of that week. We walked the mountains around the village and finally got to know each other a little. He told me of his journeys from Europe all the way to China and I pretended I hadn't watched him all the way.

One evening, we were dining at a small restaurant. It was one of the only two restaurants in the town. I was a bit astonished that Aziraphale had been fine staying in a place with so little culinaric variety for so long, but he had been in Britain before, so there's that.
As he had finished his bowl of vegetables and rice, Aziraphale dabbed his mouth and remarked: "Absolutely scrumptious."
I had noticed the portions getting smaller every day for a few weeks now, but I hadn't said anything. Honestly, eating was never something I really enjoyed and I didn't need to. But Aziraphale still looked hungry, so I asked the waiter for a second portion.
He squirmed a bit under my question, after all, Aziraphale was a consistent customer he didn't want to disappoint.
Then he caved: "I can bring you some more vegetables, but I'm out of rice. It's nearly spring and the harvest last autumn was bad. We will need nearly all the rice we have left for sowing."
"It's alright, dear", Aziraphale calmed the poor man down: "We are fine."

"You're sowing soon?", I asked: "And you're already out of rice? What will you eat in summer?"
The man shrug his shoulders: "In summer, we might have luck hunting. Or we can gather some food from the mountains. There isn't much to find this high, but some herbs are okay and we can collect berries from shrubs. The vegetables will also grow and be ready for harvest earlier than the rice.
"And if that doesn't help, we will have to ration the rice. Make sure we survive.
"But yes, life is hard up here. And last year was a good year. If the frost comes in earlier, and the rice dies before its kernel is fully grown, there is no harvest at all."

I looked at the lush mountainsides around and for the first time in existence I realized that just because they were green, that didn't mean they fed the people living here.

I wanted to understand. And I wanted to help these people. Their lives were not easy, and they were trying to make the best of it. Sticking together. Rationing instead of fighting. 
"How long do you have? In a bad year?"

"There might be long frost in spring. And if the cold comes early in autumn... About 150 days."

I had no idea how long the average rice plant needed to grow. It had never before mattered in my existence. But Aziraphale seemed to like these people and they had a clear problem.

We left the restaurant shortly after this conversation. Without asking for a second portion. And leaving a huge tip. Maybe the owner of the restaurant wondered a bit when he found his rice storage replenished the next day.
But the thought didn't leave me. This wasn't a problem that could be solved by giving the village people some rice. They would be fed for one year and starve the next one. This was a systemic problem that needed to be fixed with knowledge not with matter.

Rice was, if you simplified it a lot, just another thing that grew. Like stars. Or humans. I had a lot of experience with the former and far too little with the later. But like a star grew for a few million years before it was able to illuminate a whole solar system, a rice plant needed to grow before the corn was ripe and could be harvested. Apparently for more than 150 days.

There were two reasons the rice wasn't growing as fast as it could in this village:
The first one was the short growth period so far up here. If the frost came before the rice was fully grown, it would die and there would be no harvest.
The second problem was water. There was a lot of rain, but most of the water ran off the mountainside and was lost before it could be used to water the rice plants.
If the fields were horizontal, the problem would be solved.

I was walking up some stairs carved into the hillside with Aziraphale, when I connected the dots.
Terraces. 
I had to share this thought immediately with Aziraphale:
"What about Terraces? Like carving steps into the mountainside to get flat surfaces for farming? Keep the water from running off."
Aziraphale, who had previously been describing the intricacies of storytelling in close-knit societies such as this village, stopped in his words and tracks: "What are you talking about my dear?"
"If the fields were flat, water wouldn't run off and the rice could grow faster. And better. Just solved fifty percent of their problem." I waved my hand to include the whole village.
Aziraphale seemed to understand: "While I have been watching them and learning from them, you secretly solved all their problems."
"One half of this problem. Keep up, Angel. - But, I might just have solved the second half."

With these words, I stepped away to heaven for a moment. I had stared at this stupid globe for so long that I had noticed far more things than necessary. Of course, there were differerent kinds of rice. One of them must grow faster.
Yes, there was one. 130 days growth period. People were cultivating it in Vietnam.
It wouldn't change that much in the history of the Earth if one village in China would grow rice that was previously only grown in Vietnam, right?
I should have researched the butterfly effect before I did that miracle.

But I didn't. And I'm glad I didn't.

A few days later, Aziraphale collected the people of the village and explained my ideas to them. 
I had miracled up a sachet of rice grains of that fast-growing variety from Vietnam. I was holding it in my hands, standing a bit useless next to Aziraphale. I have always had the best ideas, but communicating is Aziraphale's strength. 
He first explained my plan with the terraces. The people didn't seem too happy to carve them into the mountainside, but they did see the advantages of keeping the water on the fields. They wanted to start with a few, and, when the harvest improved, transform more hillsides into terraces.
Then came my big moment. The step of the plan, to which I, personally, was essential. The rice.
Aziraphale explained that the rice they had been growing was too slow for the altitude. It would never grow fast enough to be consistently ready for harvest before the frost. The people were devastated. Until he asked me to give them the rice:
I took my eyes off Aziraphale and turned to the people of the village, handing them the small sachet of rice grains: "Bring out this rice. It will need less than 150 days to grow. And you can harvest it before the winter falls."
They seemed sceptical at first. But Aziraphale had stayed long enough that they had learned to trust him. And they agreed to try out this new variety of rice. They would set up some test fields to see how it would behave. I hoped everything would work out and the rice would actually grow well in this climate. I was curious how these little plants would grow and give their best.

So, this time I stayed. And Aziraphale stayed, too. Until the rice was harvested. And then until the next harvest. 
We watched the people carve terraces into the mountains, ploughing them with water buffallos. Beautiful animals with very kind eyes.
The people planted the young rice into the terraces and flooded them with water. And after 130 days, the rice was ready to be harvested.

Soon, the neighboring villages caught on. The faster growth period of the rice saved many lives and brought wealth. To the village, to the whole valley and soon to all of China.
It was beautiful.

Chapter Text

The 13th century was Aziraphale's favourite so far. We had moved back from China. Together.
I had taken some time off. Nobody knew what I was supposed to be doing anyways, now that the stars were created and growing up on their own pretty well. I don't think anyone had noticed I wasn't around anymore.

Back to Europe, we had taken residency in a small town.
There was a cloister on the edge of town, where I had seen Aziraphale disappear quite often. After a while I found out they had a small library where he spent his days reading. One day I was looking for him and found him amidst the books, crying real tears about fictional characters. He was a bit self-conscious about it. He proceeded to explain his love for books to me like this: "Reading is like someone telling a story to you. But without the uncertainty. You don't need to meet the right person at the right time to tell the story. It is written down and waiting. And it will wait for as long as necessary until another person reads it. It's like making a friend without ever meeting them..."

He trailed off. Maybe he thought I wouldn't understand. But I did. Human lives were so fleeting. Meeting them at the right time, to even see a second of their beautiful life, was so improbable.
And he had found a way to keep them. I now know this would become his obsession for the next 800 years. Twice over.

In this moment, I just wanted to hug him. So I did.
"Oh, dear. I know it's not been easy. Human lives seem to be over by the time a butterfly flaps his wings."
Aziraphale had real tears in his eyes when he looked up at me again: "I just don't want to lose them. Human lives are so short. They barely leave anything behind. Sometimes I just wish I could consult an old friend again."
And he was right. But I couldn't just let him stay there with his books. He was spiralling into sadness. There still was a world out there. For who-knew-how-long. I lifted his head up and looked into his eyes: "Let's meet some of the people out there, before we miss out on them, ok? We can get back to the books later."

I took his hand and pulled him out of the library and towards the townsquare. The evening was dawning over the city, painting the sky in fiery red colours. This day was about to end. Our time on earth was not. Some bards were supposed to come play at the local tavern tonight. Maybe they would bring some stories, maybe some songs. There would be wine. Just right to get him to think different thoughts.

A few hours later, we found ourselves in said tavern. The bards had gathered on a small makeshift stage and were peforming for a warm meal and a beer. Aziraphale was fishing coin after coin out of his pockets to provide them with both. It was a pleasure to watch him. I had decided to sit down at a table and watch closely over a pint of beer myself, otherwise I probably would have been too smitten by him to have a single clear thought.
Aziraphale had spent the last hour sitting on the edge of the stage to listen, I could see how he tried to commit every single word to memory. Now, they had started playing a song and some folk got up to dance. He came over to my table and reached out a hand.
I shook my head: "Nonononono. No. We don't dance."
His beautiful face formed into a pout: "*Angels* don't dance. But maybe, we can. Don't always stick to your boring rules." Oh my, he must have drunk quite a lot of beer.
Well, he was right on one thing. I was being boring with these made-up rules. And technically, nothing stopped me from dancing. And he had asked.
I got up and took his hand.

Some folks had already gathered on the dance floor. Aziraphale pulled me between them and took stance opposite of me. Our hands interlinked. And then, as if hit by a sudden burst of magic, my feet knew exactly what to do.
I giggled. That miracle had tickled. I realized I had never been affected by any of his miracles before. And it was not a bad feeling. A feeling I could get used to.
He looked up to me, doubt clouded his clear blue eyes under the long lashes. His hand caressed mine: "Sorry, I should have asked before."
He was right. But also very welcome to repeat this at any point in time. I gave him an encouraging wink: "No harm done. Let's dance?"

The music started and our bodies began to move. It was a fast and easy rhythm, stomping and skipping. At first, every pair of dancers stayed for themselves, but then they arranged in a circle.
I interlaced my arms with Aziraphale's and round and round we skipped. Dancers began to intermingle with each other, passing on their hands until we were caught in a whirlwind of interlacing hands, flowing skirts and crescending music.
Every time I caught Aziraphale's gaze through the stampede, he smiled brighter. When I got to hold his hands for a second, I felt the excitement running through his veins. This was what he was made for.
The room brimmed with his miracle and I could do nothing but smile while I drowned in the wild sea of dancers.

We came back to the tavern every evening for as long as the travelling bards were there. Aziraphale was fascinated by the songs they had brought with them. And he made the monks write down his favourite ones. I think he was the one who made writing a virtue. He wanted to give the monks some eternal payment for their wonderful work and studious labor.

At the end of the century, reading glasses were invented, which Aziraphale adopted very fast. He said they were "nifty", a term I had never heard before and would not hear again until at least 600 years later.