First things first (because sometimes I forget), I don't own anything from the Marvel Cinematic Universe, or any other fandom that might end up mixed in this verse (which I'm very proud of, thank you). I'm making no money of writing it, though your readings, kudos, reviews, bookmarks, etc. is its own reward (one I greatly enjoy).
Now, like I said before, this story will be running along with "Fate and Destiny", from now on we'll be switching between the two as necessary, allowing Nightingale and Rose to tell their respective stories. I hope you'll enjoy (and that you won't get confused... though if you do let me know and I'll do my best to help).
For those wondering, yes, it's possible to read "Fate and Destiny" without reading this, or wait until you finish that one to read this; however, since both will technically be taking place at the same time... well, there's a reason I decided to post this way. Also, because some things won't be addressed in one or the other fic, depending where it's important, and you need to remember that, since most of the fic is told in first person, each narrator might either leave out thing, or simply be unaware of them. So the two stories together will give you a better idea of what's happening with different people.
Hope you'll enjoy, and here we go!
Bouquet of Roses
(Companion and Sequel to Fate and Destiny)
By: Lalaith Quetzalli
'A Rose is a rose is a rose'... much poetry has been written about roses, about their scent and symbolism, but it's much more complex than those words might suggest. Because no two roses are identical, each one of them has their own meaning, their own significance, their own history, their own life.
White Rose
Pure and Beautiful Soul, a child is the picture of Innocence...
Born a 20th of March, I am a child of the Spring Equinox. 'Little elven child' my parents have called me. I have a complicated life, maybe other people have said it before, but none with as much reason as I, surely. After all, I doubt there are others out there with a reincarnated elven princess for a mother, an adopted Asgardian prince (born youngest prince of the frost-giants) for a father, the Queen of the Dead for a sister, and the youngest son of a king (of Jotunheim) for an adopted brother... and that's without taking in considering all my extended family. That's me. That's my life, or the bare bones of it at least.
I've always known I was different from any other child, 'special' my mother says, though that term is used to describe such a variety of individuals that I'm not quite sure if it's a comfort or no. In any case, I've never expected anything in my life to be normal, though it still took a while for me to realize how far removed from normal I actually am.
I was born on the vernal equinox, on the day of an ancient festival known as Ostara, which is regarded as a time of rebirth, of growth, it also celebrates fertility. Upon my birth I was given the name of Rose Alfdis; Rose because it's my mother's favorite flower, and partly because of an old story she knew 'The Nightingale and the Rose'... she's the Nightingale of course, it's the name my father gave her shortly after they first met, and while they don't use it often, it had a special significance for them. I'm also Alfdis, that one has several reasons and meanings; most people say it means simply 'spirit'; but it goes beyond that, because 'Alf' means 'elf', while '-dis' is 'a female guardian spirit', which would make me an she-elf guardian spirit... or simply an elven guardian-spirit... I personally like that last one the most. The greatest importance, though, is that the name is Norse, and as such a connection to my father's family and traditions.
When it comes to last-names it gets even more complicated. My parents are publicly known as Arianna and Luke Stark-Serrure... she's regarded as the little half-sister of millionaire, inventor, founder and CEO of Stark Industries: Howard Stark. My father is something of an inventor himself, he used to work for uncle Howard, helped him create a whole line or war-planes... They both participated in WWII, aiding the allies, Papa as an agent for the Strategic Scientific Reserve and Mama as a nurse and sometimes interpreter. They befriended great heroes like Agent Peggy Carter, Captain America and his Howling Commandos. My big-brother, Hakon, was there too, though he was a little kid then (I wasn't yet born).
The family was living in New York when I was born, it'd been almost four years since the end of the war. We moved to England soon afterwards, though; where Papa began working as a teacher while Mama and Hakon attended college, all in Oxford.
Now, as if that part weren't complicated enough, it doesn't actually end there. Because truth is, mama's not a Stark, not really. Uncle Howard claimed her as his sister to help protect her, to protect all of us, so no one would find out the truth (of which even he doesn't know all), the fact that my family... they're not humans, or from the 40's...
Mama was born Silbhé Arianna Kinross-Salani... on the 2nd of February of 1992... yeah, that is kind of insane. And it's just the beginning. She met papa when she was eleven, when he appeared out of thin air in the middle of the garden in Salani mansion; he took the alias of Luka Hvedrungr but couldn't hide the truth from her for long, the fact that he's Loki, son of Odin and Frigg, second prince of Asgard (born as the third and youngest son of Laufey, the insane former king of the Jotuns... though, with the years being what they are, that statement isn't quite true). They fell in love through the years and eventually married when she was nineteen. When she was twenty-one mama died for all intents and purposes, her bond to papa allowed her to give up her mortal life, yet go on living, as papa's equal. It was shortly after that that they adopted Hakon, when his father King Helblindi of Jotunheim (Laufey's second son) claimed to be unable to give a then three-year-old Hakon the life he deserved (because Hakon is a runt among giants, and that would make life very hard for him there).
Years after that, another discovery was made, the fact that mama was the reincarnation of Lalaith Mirloth, princess (and almost Queen) of Alfheim, better known as Tinúviel. She'd surrendered her throne out of love for papa, married him and given him a daughter: Helena (whom the universe knew better as Hel, Queen of the Dead). She'd died along with her unborn second child: Meril (a name which meant 'rose' in elvish). For reasons I couldn't fully comprehend, everyone had forgotten her after her death, even papa. It was until after he and mama found each other, fell in love all over again and got married that the truth was revealed.
In 2016 they had been doing a few missions here and there for SHIELD (the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division), when something happened. No one knew quite what; even after all the years that had passed since, the memory of that day remained elusive. Somehow they'd been transported from wherever they had all been that day in 2016, to the middle of nowhere, in Norway, in 1941!
Without papers, an actual legal identity, and in a couple of cases the very real risk of calling the wrong kind of attention (what if Asgard had found them?), it was probably fortunate when Uncle Howard found them and chose to do his best to help them, even without knowing everything about them all (a group that included not just papa and mama, but also little Hakon, and Aunt Sif, the goddess of war).
I was born in 1949, after the end of the war, at a time when WWII had ended; there was supposed to be peace in the world. Yet the truth wasn't quite so simple. The Cold War was beginning, the conflict between North and South Korea kept escalating and the creation of the first Soviet atomic bomb marked the start of a rather insane arms race that would continue for years to come (some might argue it'd never end).
We moved to England in the early 1950s. There papa worked as a teacher, while Hakon and mama went to college; mama also took time to home-school me (she'd experience on both sides of that, having home-schooled Hakon up to high-school level, and having been home-schooled herself by her aunt). Everything changed, rather abruptly in the summer of '54.
I always knew I wasn't normal, with a mother who carried the title of Goddess of Devotion and Compassion, and held powers like empathy, shadow-walking, channeling her match's magic and, most important of all, healing without herbs or tools, with nothing but her will; and a father who had been called God of Mischief and Lies, sometimes even Magic, who was known across the realms as Silvertongue, Sky-Treader, Trickster, Maverick, who had ice lurking beneath his alabaster skin, who knew all the Secret Paths, could shadow-walk and was probably the most powerful sorcerer in all the universe (having surpassed even the Lady Frigg, his adopted mother, my grandmother...). Yes, I always knew I wasn't exactly normal, though it was until I turned five that I learnt what that meant, exactly.
I opened my eyes to find myself in the middle of a small room. There was a small fireplace in a corner, which doubled as a stove, there was an old table with four mismatched chairs, an old, ratty couch, and on the opposite side a small area was curtained off, I knew instinctively it was what passed for a bedroom there, with an old, half-hard mattress and threadbare sheets. I ignored all that, instead walking to the window, to the figure standing there.
She was young, possibly even younger than me; though I wasn't sure if her small-size was due to youth or malnutrition. Still, her head was framed by beautiful bright-red ringlets, while her eyes were chocolate brown and full of life. She was wearing an obviously old pale-yellow dress (which actually looked like it might have been a man's shirt at one point, before being modified by someone with obvious talent with needle and thread. She was standing at the window, looking outside, at the crowd beginning to gather outside.
"Dai... Dadro..." She called to two of the people outside, in a language and accent I didn't really know, though I knew instinctively she was calling to her family.
Everything changed abruptly, like the flipping of a switch. The strong conversation outside turned into an argument, and soon there was shouting in a mix of two, probably three different languages. There was some kind of crash, a scream and then... fire.
Fire... the building was on fire... the room was on fire!
I wasn't sure if the place was catching on fire so fast because the whole building was made of wood, so old and dry... or if my perceptions were somehow altered. My thoughts were broken when the little girl's cries for her parents were suddenly interrupted by an entirely different kind of cry: one of pain.
The fire had reached the room, and it'd caught her, on her left shoulder and part of her face and neck. She was screaming, and crying, but it was as if no one could hear her...
I had to help her, I knew I had to help her but I didn't know how!
An explosion, it came out of nowhere, all windows seemed to shatter at the same time and then... and then the fire seemed to consume the room, and the girl... my horror was so great I couldn't help myself, I screamed...
When I woke up I was still screaming. In seconds my family was standing around my bed, illuminated by the light of several candles placed around the room (I wasn't sure why exactly, back then, but I'd always liked candles, of all kinds).
"Rosie?" Mama called, sitting on the bed beside me and reaching for me with both arms.
I didn't have to think about it. In my whole (if short) life I'd never known anyone who made me feel safer than my mama. I knew how much she loved me, all she was willing to do and to give for me, I knew her love for me was absolute and unconditional, same as with my papa and my brother. So I threw myself into her arms, crying almost hysterically as I couldn't help but remember my dream, the fire, and that little girl... just thinking about it hurt.
"Sweetheart?" She murmured very softly. "Are you alright?"
For the longest time I couldn't answer her, all I could do was cry. Though eventually I managed to half-control myself. If I expected to be able to do something about my dream, then my family needed to know, how else would they help me?
"We have to save her!" I told them. "We have to save her, or she's gonna die!"
"Who's gonna die?" It was so obvious my brother was still asleep, and yet my words were enough to put him on alert instantly. "Little sis..."
"Willow!" I had no idea where the name had even come from, I just knew it was right.
"Who's Willow?" Hakon asked next, approaching the opposite side of the bed slowly.
"She's my little sister... but she doesn't know it yet." Yet again something I knew without having proof of it, it was instinctive.
Mama looked at me for several seconds, confused. I had no idea what she was thinking, all I myself could think about was the need to save that girl... Willow... my sister...
"Where can we find Willow?" Mama asked me. "And how can we save her?"
"Her name's not Willow yet..." I admitted then, remembering my dream, told her one thing I could remember. "Her papa calls her chikni..."
Everyone turned to mama, knowing she was the one who knew the most languages (I decided right then that I too would make an effort to learn many, many languages... I wanted to be just like my mama...)
"That's Romany." She told us. "I remember some of the prisoners we rescued during the war speaking the language, it's what the gypsies speak. I think that word means: daughter..."
It made sense, it meant that the man the red-haired girl had been looking at was her papa... but why hadn't he saved her then? I didn't understand.
"So, we're supposed to rescue a girl?" My brother spoke up. "A girl who has a father too. From who or what exactly?"
"Fire!" I couldn't help myself, the memory made me cry out. Then I turned to mama, knowing she would understand me, she had to... "We need to save her Mama! We need to save Willow! She'll burn! We need to go! We need to go now!" I was losing it, why were none of them moving?! "Mama! Papa! Hakon! We need to save Willow!"
I didn't wait for any of them to say a word, instead running to my closet. I needed to get dressed. Thankfully they began moving too. I knew they didn't understand, they hadn't seen what I had; but they loved me, they would believe me... we would save Willow! And then she'd become my little sister...
Soon enough we were all in the car. Mama had even packed some food for the drive, and jackets in case we ended somewhere cold (I didn't think so, but couldn't be sure). Papa began driving, following my instructions whenever I told him to take a turn, change lanes, or anything else. I had no idea how I knew the way, or even where we were going exactly, I just knew we needed to hurry or Willow was going to die... I didn't want my sister to die! I had only seen her once, in a dream, and already I loved her dearly.
We drove for more than half a day, hardly ever stopping and never sleeping (I couldn't sleep, who would have told papa where to go if I fell asleep?).
"Daro (Stop)!" The word came from my mama so suddenly we were all shocked.
Papa stopped the car instantly though.
"What is it?" Papa asked her intently.
"I don't think it's a good idea to continue by car." She explained quietly. "There is a great power touching the earth beneath us... it might be safer for us all to continue on foot for now."
I didn't know what was going on, but I didn't care either. If mama said we couldn't continue by car, then we'd have to walk, to run. And that's exactly what I did.
"Phey!" Sister... I called to her as a I ran, even knowing she couldn't actually hear me yet, using a word I'd never studied, yet instinctively knew the meaning of, just like I knew what she was supposed to be to me.
No one tried to stop me, or tell me to slow down. If we were a normal family I would have probably gotten yelled at, maybe even grounded; but my family wasn't normal, and they believed in me. So we all ran.
We'd almost reached the end of the forested area when I heard my brother speak:
"Hey," He called. "Does anyone else smell smoke?"
"There's something burning up ahead." Papa agreed in a dark tone.
I just knew what was; which was why, even though I was very tired, I pushed myself to keep on running, crossing the tree-line and into the small town, and soon I could see the building. I knew it was the one from my dream, even though I'd never actually seen it from the outside; I could also see it was already on fire. That wasn't good. I ran faster.
I knew, in a corner of my head, that I was leaving my family behind, that they wouldn't like that; but getting to Willow was too important, I couldn't stop, couldn't slow down.
Even when I reached the back door of the hostel, I still didn't stop, just slammed the door open. Flames came out, as if jumping in my direction, but I ignored them, jumping straight in, only vaguely aware of the fire touching my skin, caressing but never burning. I think I might have heard my brother call to me, followed by a curse when he was unable to follow; I didn't look back, just looked for the stairs and began climbing as fast as I could.
The top floor was probably the most decrepit of the whole building (which was already pretty bad), I could see the fire expanding, eating up walls, the floors, the ceilings... I knew it wouldn't be long before the whole thing was lost.
I burst into the room in time to hear her call to her parents one more time, before crying out in pain instead.
"Willow!" I called, even as I took hold of her.
The moment we touched the flames that had begun to hurt her seemed to wash away. It didn't happen fast enough to prevent all injuries, but they were a lot less than what I'd seen in my dream. That gave me hope, I'd gotten there in time, I was changing things! All we needed then was to get out before the building collapsed with us inside.
"Willow..." I began.
"Anya." She corrected me, before saying something I couldn't quite understand, probably Romany, and finishing by repeating that name: "Anya..."
"I have to get you out of here." I told her, waving my hand in the direction of the door, as I knew she probably wouldn't be able to understand a word I said.
I also wasn't letting go of her. It seemed like us touching was allowing her to avoid getting burned. The fire swirled around her, without hurting, just like it was doing with me.
The wooden floorboards beneath our feet creaked, a second before an explosion was heard, windows throughout the whole floor seemed to explode. I didn't wait to see if the next part happened as I'd dreamed as well, I wouldn't let it. So instead I pulled on Will... Anya, and began running back the way we came.
It wasn't easy, the hostel was practically crumbling down all around us, and beneath our feet, but still we didn't stop, and somehow we managed to get to the door and outside without anything falling on us (or the floor falling from beneath us).
Mama was upon us before we could give more than a few steps.
"Oh Rosie!" She cried out.
"Mama!" I called in return. "Help Willow please! She's hurt!"
I knew she said her name was Anya, but my heart kept calling her Willow, I couldn't help her. Mama didn't say anything, not even to recriminate me for having gone into the burning building alone; instead she turned to Willow, to her burns (on the left side of her face, near her ear and hairline, and a more serious one down her neck and reaching to her shoulder, where the sleeve of her dress had almost burnt through). I could see in my mother's eyes the pain, the grief, she knew Willow was hurting, and probably also how bad it could have been. Mama had always been so full of love, I could almost feel it every time she held me, or even just spoke to me; I was sure she must be feeling protective over Willow too.
I've always known Mama was very special, more than any other mama in the world (and not just because she's mine), she'd told me the story, of the two lives she'd spent with Papa, how their love for each other was enough to bring her back, how it allowed them to have me when so many people believed it to be impossible (because she'd been terribly sick for many years). And not only that, she had a gift very few people in the whole wide universe possessed: she could heal. And that was exactly what she did for Willow.
When Willow flinched I did my best to console her in broken Romany. I'd spent the hours driving from the cottage where we'd been to that town reading through a dictionary, trying to memorize important words and phrases. I knew I wasn't any good at it, but I just wanted to be able to reassure Willow that everything would be alright.
In the end Mama couldn't undo everything, but a part of me had already been expecting that. Scars were left on the left side of Willow's face, on part of her neck and her shoulder; but that was alright, there was nothing wrong with scars, they were symbols of all a person had survived, of how brave they were... that's what Papa told me when I asked him about his.
It looked like Mama was about to say something else when she froze, we all did. There was something off, I knew it, but I had no idea what. Mama turned to look at Papa and I could tell she was saying something to him, in that special way where only he could hear her: and then Papa put a hand on my arm, and we were gone.
We reappeared beside the car, right on time to watch flocks of birds fly away in a hurry, as if fleeing from something. The very earth seemed to shift beneath our feet.
"That was no earthquake." Hakon commented, letting go of Papa.
"No, it wasn't." Mama agreed.
It was all she said, but I knew that wasn't all she was thinking. In any case, I just knew that whatever had happened, it was bad... really bad.
Papa drove us to the nearest city, where we immediately got a room and went to rest. He and big-bro when back to the little town. When they returned they went to speak to Mama privately, and while I don't know what they said, it wasn't good.
The following morning they told Willow... Anya, that they couldn't find her parents, and asked her if she wanted to stay with us.
"Can I?" She asked, in a very soft voice, and still in Romany (Mama was translating, and I was able to make out a few things). "Can I stay with you?"
"Yes." I told her immediately, then added for good measure. "Phei (sister)..."
Her eyes actually seemed to light up when I said that. I liked it, she'd been so sad ever since we'd gotten out of the burning building, and I didn't like it when my sister was sad.
"We need to get her papers." Papa said. "There's no way we'll make it across the borders to Istanbul... much less back to England, without those."
"What name would you like to have, little one?" Mama asked her softly.
"My name is Anya." She stated seriously, like one who's been learning to say her name. Then she looked at me and added. "Can I be Willow too?"
"Of course you can, darling." Mama assured her.
And so she became Willow Anya Stark Serrure... my little sister.
On the way back to the cottage I told my little sis all about our Mama. How amazing she was, and how she had the prettiest voice. That night, just before going to sleep, Mama sang to us, the song she'd told me her own Mama would sing when it was time for her to sleep. It was perfect.
xXx
It was easy for us, to become sisters, as if we'd been such all along. We'd a difference of three months in ages (Willow had been born the day before Midsummer, on June 20th...). Still, since Mama and Papa ha gotten her papers as their daughter, but nothing about an adoption, and they simply didn't want to have to explain how exactly Willow had become part of our family (how could we have explained what had happened in that little town? or how I'd known what would happen to Willow?). In the end it was simply easier to pass as twins; the people we truly cared about, our family and closest friends (like Charles and Raven) knew the truth, and that was enough for all of us.
We had our moments, of course. Like when Hakon left to join the army. Will's nightmares had gotten better, had lessened; but after he left they came back with a vengeance. She also dreamt about losing us, her new family, like she'd lost her first. At first I tried to be there for her, help her; but that wasn't enough. Then Mama helped us:
"Just like we all love you, my sprite." Mama kissed Willow's brow, then caressed my arm (as I was on Will's other side). "Just like we all love you and your sister both. You must know that we'll always do our best to stay with you." It wasn't what we might have wished to hear, but Mama would never lie to us, or make promises she couldn't keep, and we knew that. "However, if the day does come when we're forced to separate... that doesn't mean we don't love you, or that we don't want to be with you. The people we love... they never really leave us. They're always with us..." She touched sis's temple. "here," then her heart. "and here. Whatever the future might bring. Whether we're together physically or not, as long as we keep each other in our minds and hearts, we will always be together. Forever..."
Five years after Willow and I first became sisters we left England and moved back to New York, where I was born. It was supposed to be a vacation at first, but Papa was having fun with Uncle Howard, and Aunt Sia had been transferred already, and then Mama found a new job. Hakon was still away though. The move didn't make much difference for our studies, Mama was still the one to home-school us. I did miss Raven, though.
In late August of 1962 we saw Charles again. We were spending the summer break in Uncle Howard's penthouse in Chicago; he was traveling with a man called Erik Lehnsherr. I think he wanted Mama and Papa's help with something, but they told him no, Mama didn't want us to be in danger, and apparently we would have been, if they'd accepted.
In October the dreams began. They were violent, like nothing else I'd ever seen before, sleeping or awake. I saw fights between two teams of gifted individuals: a furry-blue man with super-strength and great agility, a red-skinned teleporter with a sword, a blonde young man that shot lasers from his chest, a black-haired Spaniard capable of conjuring cyclones, a redhead whose voice could shatter glass, a blonde woman with diamond-skin and telepathy, a dark-skinned young man who could adapt, a young latina with insect-like wings, a man with the power to control pure energy, a blue-skinned red-haired shapeshifted: Raven... a tall, steel-eyed man who can control magnetism: Erik Lehnsherr... and a blue-eyed telepath: Charles...
The dreams were bad from the very beginning, and they kept getting progressively worse: one of the young gifted being killed, one betraying the rest of the team, an insane man... a monster seeking to destroy the world...
The one I woke from on the 28th of October was especially bad. I saw the two teams of gifted facing each other, at moments on the beach, and at others on ships or even flying low over the blue sea... but the part that hit me the hardest was when I saw Charles crouching by the side of a half-destroyed jet, one hand pressed to his temple, the other on the hull and he was calling both with his mind and mouth. At first it was going alright, until everything changed unexpectedly, and then he was calling, to Erik, he was yelling, and pleading and...
I woke up screaming. I hadn't seen how things had ended with Charles, and didn't know if that was because I woke up too soon, or it simply had been decided yet. Still, I knew things were bad, and could still get worse. Charles needed our help, we needed to get there.
"Mama!" Hours later I kept insisting, yet nothing seemed to be enough. "Mama we need to go! Charles needs us! We need to go!"
"We cannot go, sweetheart." She tried to tell me. "It's too dangerous."
"There's going to be a fight and they need us!" I practically wailed.
I knew I was pretty much throwing a tantrum, like I never had before, but why couldn't they understand that I was right?!
"You're too young to get involved in fights, Rosie." Mama said in her tone of this-is-for-your-own-good-darling. "Charles and his friends are strong, they can handle this."
Usually that tone of voice would fill me with confidence, in that moment it just made me despair. I knew Mama and Papa couldn't see the things I did, couldn't know; but they'd trusted me about Willow, why couldn't they trust me again?
In the end we did not go. I woke up on the 29th of October sobbing hysterically, after having just witnessed the aftermath of that fight. Having watched Charles scream himself hoarse in the back of a half-destroyed jet, I could practically feel his pain, which wasn't actually physical, no, it was much worse. Then the stand-off in that beach, the way they kept arguing around each other, seemingly without actually listening to each other... I wished with all my heart that I could be there, could be there to yell at them, to make them see all they were missing, everything they were doing wrong. But I wasn't there, and no matter how hard I might wish, nothing I did or said would change what had already happened.
I'd never before seen the past in my dreams, only the future. I wasn't sure if it was better or worse than seeing the future. On the one hand, I knew there was nothing I could do to change it; on the other, I'd had that chance and let it pass... well no, I didn't let it pass, I tried to intervene, but wasn't allowed.
A part of me became really angry at my mama after that. So much that even though I hurt deeply over the next few days I wouldn't let her comfort me, I didn't let anyone except Willow anywhere close to me. All I could think was that it was her fault we hadn't been there to help Charles, to help everyone.
It'd take me years to understand why Mama made the choices she did and that they weren't wrong, or right. They were just her choices, as simple as that... and in the same manner, one day I'd get to make mine.
xXx
An unknown city, an unknown room... though it clearly belonged to a hospital. There was a man laying on the bed, and I actually had to do a double take before realizing who exactly it was: Charles Xavier. Charles Xavier was in a hospital bed!
Immediately I began spinning around, trying to understand what was going on. Where was Raven? Where was Erik Lehnsherr? I knew they'd argued on that beach, but an argument wasn't the end of the world, was it?
I could see Charles on that bed; and unlike me, he wasn't looking around, eyes kept straight on the ceiling. And then someone else entered:
"Charles, are you awake?" She asked softly, hesitantly.
"So you know then." He said, apropos of nothing... or perhaps of something he'd read in her mind, even though he didn't so much as turn to look at her.
"They told you!" She exclaimed in obvious shock.
"No, but then again, they don't need to." He said simply. "Their minds are loud enough."
"Oh Charles..." She began, sounding like she was about to cry.
"It's alright Moira, I've been expecting this since I was on that beach." He told her with a calm that didn't reach his eyes. "The moment I realized I couldn't feel my legs I knew it was unlikely I would ever walk again."
I didn't get the chance to scream. I hadn't known that, how could I not have known that?! When abruptly everything around me changed:
A convoy was driving down a street, lots of people around, which meant there must have been someone important in that convoy... it took me a bit to realize just how important, and who it was exactly: President John F. Kennedy...
The fateful shot came then. A commotion made me turn to a side, to where none other than Erik Lehnsherr was, on the ground, underneath several guys, probably Secret Service. For a moment I couldn't help but wonder if Aunt Sia might have been wrong, when she'd told us that Magneto was not the one to kill the president. All the people around certainly believed him to be guilty. And then I saw her, Aunt Sia, standing no more than a few feet from me, only she wasn't looking at Lehnsherr, or at the president... no, her eyes were fixed in a completely different direction. I followed her line of sight, and then I saw it, a figure moving away. I'd no idea who it was; in fact, if it weren't for Sia the figure would have meant nothing at all to me. Though it certainly meant something to her, as she immediately moved, running in the same direction. I was trying to decide who exactly I was supposed to focus on, when the world vanished all around me again.
It was a hallway in some mansion I'd never seen before, and Charles was there, on a wheelchair, pushing it and himself as fast as he could. He went down several halls and a half-concealed elevator before reaching a reinforced door and waiting outside, silently watching the red-light beside the door, waiting until it changed to green.
Right after it did the doors opened, and out stepped a blonde man, his hair looking almost wind-blown, and sweating as if he'd just run a marathon.
"Alex..." Charles began.
"You already know, right?" He asked.
"You know I try not to invade anyone's privacy..." Charles began, apologetically.
"But sometimes we scream our thoughts, I know, that's alright." Alex began babbling. "It's perfect actually, since I don't think I can say the words out-loud..." He dropped to his knees before Charles's wheelchair. "Why did this have to happen? Why does there have to be war?"
"I honestly don't know Alex." Charles told him softly, running a hand through the younger man's hair (he looked almost like a boy then, more than man). "I've asked myself the same question many times. I wish I could stop all wars... but even I don't have that kind of power."
It looked like he might want to say something else, but he didn't. Yet somehow I knew. Charles did not have the power to keep wars from happening; but he probably had enough power to keep Alex from being sent. If the blonde had asked him, Charles would have used his power, would have bent other people's wills, no matter how much against his own morals it might be. Because he loved the boy, like a little brother, like a son... and Charles would do anything for those he loved. That was probably why the blonde... Alex, did not ask. He knew, he understood, and he loved Charles enough not to ask him that.
In the second between my surroundings vanishing and something new appearing I couldn't help but pray that my brother might be able to help Alex, to help all like him who would find themselves in the war... somehow.
In the blink of an eye I suddenly found myself standing in what looked like a courthouse, except there was no jury, no public; less than half a dozen people in all, including the two lawyers, the judge and two heavily armed men standing behind the tightly restrained man (who was held by plastic restraints). It was Erik Lehnsherr again, eerily quiet as everyone around him argued the 'finer' points of his crimes. Most noticeable was the fact that no one, not even Lehnsherr's supposed lawyer was even trying to defend him.
Another blink and I was standing in the strangest room I'd ever seen in my life. It was vaguely cylindrical, and it actually took me several seconds to realize that in specific spot the wall could move to form an opening, a sort of door. It obviously couldn't be opened from the inside. I was in some sort of gray prison cell... an empty cell, seeing how I couldn't see anyone inside it... and then I looked down.
I had to blink my eyes several times and then dropped to my knees as I fully processed what I was looking at. Not all the ground beneath my feet was cement, some parts were glass, and beneath it was another, even smaller cell. With nothing but a cot in one corner, and on the cot a man in a grayish-white uniform lay. He was laying down, his eyes were closed tightly but his mouth was wide open... he was screaming, a single word:
"CHARLES!"
Elsewhere Charles was screaming as well, twisting the upper half of his body as he tried to press a hand to his lower back, while holding the side of his head with the other, but to no avail. He was obviously in pain, though it was hard to tell which one was worse: the physical, or the one that was caused by his mutation. I had no idea if he could actually hear Erik, feel him inside, or if he was hearing something else... I'd been too young when we were last truly in contact, and thus didn't understand how his telepathy really worked, aside from the fact that it pushed him to connecting with people, and thus he couldn't help but hearing their surface thoughts all the time.
A young man rushed into the room, slim and tall, he was calling to Charles in an evidently worried tone.
"Professor!" He called, kneeling beside the bed. "Professor you gotta let me help you!"
"You... you told me it would affect my DNA... that it... it might have side-effects you c-couldn't predict." Charles panted from the bed.
"Well... yes!" The younger man admitted grudgingly. "But you need it professor! You're only getting worse. Ever since that session with Cerebro..."
"Erik... he needs me." Charles moaned.
"We tried Professor." The other one was trying to be kind, but there was a hint of coldness in his words. "You did everything you could. We were too late. There's nothing else we can do. There's no way for us to get to where he is now..."
"I cannot abandon him..." Charles insisted. "I..."
"You cannot reach him where he is!" The 'student' finally snapped. "You've told me yourself. No matter how hard you try. Even with Cerebro... and you fried half of the circuits the last time you tried to use it to reach him!" His voice softened. "There's nothing we can do for Erik, Professor. You need to accept that... and you need to let me help you."
"One more day." Charles eventually gave up. "Give me one more day, one more chance... then we'll give your new serum a try."
A blink, and an untold amount of time later, there was Charles again, only he was no longer on a bed, or even on a wheelchair, he was on his feet, standing on the entrance of a study (his study, I realized belatedly); eyes fixed straight on an oak and polished-steel chess-set. The pieces were all over board, a game had been left unfinished.
From one moment to the next Charles stepped into the study, with slow, heavy footsteps, ignoring the dust covering almost everything, and with a sound that seemed half like a roar of fury, and half like a pained whine, he slapped the edge of the chessboard, sending it, and all the pieces, flying every which way. Then he dropped to his knees and began pounding the floor with his fist. It looked like he was screaming, and maybe he was, only he wasn't doing so out-loud. He was screaming his pain for the world to hear, yet no one was listening... or almost no one.
The same young man as before practically stumbled into the room, eyes wide in panic.
"Professor!" He cried out. "Are you alright?!"
"I... I need more serum Hank... I..." Charles groaned.
"You need... but the dose I gave is already quite high and..." The young man, Hank, began, in an obviously hesitant tone. "You told me it was affecting your telepathy..."
"Everything hurts Hank..." Charles practically moaned. "The voices... they're always there... and I can't get them to shut up!" He sat against a wall, still on the floor. "I don't know if I can do this Hank. I mean... really, what's the point? There's no more school, no more X-Men... no more anything... only the constant crying and wailing of people who want to be listened yet refuse to listen to everyone else. I'm forced to hear them all, and yet there's nothing I can do..." He let out a breath. "I had so many dreams... but I guess they're pointless now. And maybe when I'm gone you'll finally get to be free yourself, free of this... this poor excuse of a man I've become..."
Whatever else he might have been planning on saying, he never got to, suddenly Hank was crouched right in front of him, and he'd just slapped him.
"Don't you dare say that!" He yelled at Charles. "Don't you dare! Pro... Charles! You think I'm here out of pity? Or perhaps because I have nowhere else to go? You're wrong! You're my friend Charles. I've always been here for you, and I always will be, regardless of how insufferable you might become, because that's what friends do, they are there for each other. And maybe if you didn't insist on being so obsessed with Magneto you'd notice!"
For several seconds it looked like Hank had no idea what to say, or if he even should say anything at all.
"Oh Hank..." Was all he managed to say in the end, and then he pressed his forehead into his student... no, his friend's shoulder, and broke down crying.
I was already crying by that point, couldn't imagine anything that could possibly be any worse than what I'd just witnessed. In all fairness, just what I'd seen up until that point would probably have been enough to push me into doing something, anything to try and make things better, but, as it turned out, it didn't stop there... not by a long shot:
There were more stand-offs, more than a dozen of them, and fights, sometimes with the two of them leading their respective groups, others they were away (sometimes Magneto was in prison, or Charles was indisposed); in the end the Professor's X-Men and Magneto's Brotherhood of Mutants were almost always on opposite sides of the battlefield. There were a few exceptions, of course; when some other force would appear, one strong enough to put mutant-kind as a whole in danger, making it necessary for both groups to ally, but it was never more than a temporary truce at best. Then there were the more personal meetings, in public places, cryptic exchanges of words, or in some random park, to play chess together, or in some hotel room in the middle of nowhere... and I so did not need to know that!
So many meetings, violent and peaceful, and sometimes even heartfelt, they marked the passage of time, years and years. And ever so slowly Magneto's hair turned silver, while the Professor lost all of his, and the skin of both wrinkled, but they never stopped fighting, never stopped trying, never gave up... except on one thing: it was as if Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr no longer existed, they were only the Professor and Magneto, all that was left of them was the leaders of their two groups, the two extremes in mutant society... (and yet again I wished I could be there, physically, so I could scream at them and tell them all they were doing wrong!).
Eventually it became insane, it was as if I were drowning in images, scenes of the future, so many I couldn't fully process all of them, though a few stood out:
A middle-aged Professor X, met Magneto as he got out of prison after many years (I couldn't be sure if he'd been freed or had escaped). Their conversation soon turned into a screaming match:
"You abandoned me!" For a moment it's not Professor X speaking, but Charles, full of the pain and heart-ache of so many years. "You took her away and you abandoned me!"
"And what of you Professor..." The reply comes not from Erik, but from Magneto, a name that is both weapon and armor, and which he wields with a lot more ease that the metal he was deprived of from so long. "What of all the people you left to their luck? All that were experimented on, butchered! We were supposed to protect them! Where were you when your own people needed you?! Hiding?!" He shook his head, loathing clear on his expression. "You abandoned us all!"
He had no idea, he couldn't know, how hard Charles tried, how much he suffered, and how awful it was when he finally gave up. He didn't know, and he never would...
Even more years later, the two men met on the foyer of an auditorium, probably in New York. Magneto, in casual clothes, was leaving when the Professor approached him. It didn't exactly go well, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been:
"Are you sneaking around in here Charles?" Erik Lehnsherr asked, tapping the side of his head. "Whatever are you looking for?"
"I'm looking for hope." Charles Xavier admitted.
"I will bring you hope, old friend, and I ask only one thing in return: don't get in my way..." Erik replied, already leaving. "We are the future, Charles, not them! They no longer matter!"
A little bit older, or perhaps even the same age physically, though there was something in their eyes that made them look actually old, in a way they hadn't really before... They were in a prison, made entirely of plastic, playing chess:
"Why do you come here Charles?" Erik asked him eventually.
"Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answer?" Charles inquired, calmly.
"Ah yes, your continuing search for hope." He made a gesture for a guard to take the other man away, even as he got closer to say something else: "You know this plastic prison of theirs won't hold me forever. The war's still coming Charles, and I intend to fight it, by any means necessary."
"And I will always be there, old friend."
Yes, he was always there, they were always there, both of them, always meeting but never truly in sync, not again, not like they'd been in 1962, before Cuba... not for the first time I wished we could have done something to change that disaster.
Things only got worse after that, as the images became more fractured, even fuzzy. I caught sight of a confrontation between the Professor, Magneto and a red-haired mutant of such power I felt goosebumps, and I could've almost sworn I saw the Professor disintegrate, followed by a flash of a funeral; but then he was there again. He and Magneto were standing side by side, no longer fighting... though that might have been because the world was going to hell all around them:
I caught one last thing, at the very end, in Magneto's voice... only I instinctively knew he wasn't just Magneto anymore, a part of him had gone back to being Erik, if perhaps too late:
"All those years wasted fighting each other Charles... to have a precious few of them back..."
Then it was all over, in darkness and a twirling ribbon of multi-colored light...
I woke up screaming, not for the first time. Every candle in my room was alight, the flames high and dancing, as if responding to my heightened state. Willow tried to comfort me, while my parents stood at the door, seemingly not quite knowing what to do.
"A friend needs us." I told my sister eventually. "We need to go."
My mind was made up, and no one would be changing it. I was taking destiny in my own hands...
As always, full-sized poster and set of wallpapers can be found in my DeviantArt account, I am Princess-Lalaith there.
Next three updates will be in this same story, then we'll be going back to "Fate and Destiny".
See ya around and thank you for dropping by!
