This is an unabashed Fix-it Fic for Khan and the whole White guy playing a Sikh Warlord thing. It kinda fell out of my head at three in the mourning. So mistakes ahead. Hugs ad Kisses.
Mother and Father both were direct descendants of The Mongol Emperors, the warrior kings who brought India to its knees and forged an empire to rival England. He was told that from the moment of his birth. He was the best of all his classmates, stronger, faster, smarter. He knew his fate was to rule. To finally return all of Asia to her people and India to her former Glory. And why not? He was destined, designed by nature and science, to bring peace and order under his iron rule.
He was proud of his Indian features. His deep mahogany skin and black eyes made him stand out in the bleak England countryside he was raised in. He stood above the crowd, alone. Some days it was tedious. The colorless masses of people would stare at him, jealousy disgusted as hatred. It made him long for the blistering heat and sea of warm faces that was his parent's native land. To be home again. But he had to wait, wait to grow tall and strong and return with glory as The New Mongol Emperor.
India did not want an Emperor but like Timur the Lame before him, they were forced to accept him. He ruled as any Emperor should, protecting his people and eliminating everyone who dared to hurt them. He felt a certain kinship with his fellow Augments as they carved out their own fiefdoms. But if they so much as stepped onto his Empire, he slaughtered them without a thought. The Mongols had to step over a mountain of bodies to reach their thrones and so did he.
The people did not see him as the savior that he was. Murderer, they called him, Murderer, Monster, Inhuman Freak. As if he would actually want to be a mere human. They rose up against him. For all his armies, for all his power, he could not defeat them. He was forced to flee, flee with a small ship of his childhood friends, his true family. The Botany Bay was their salvation. A haven for them to wait, in perfect sleep until they could return. Until the world realized they were meant to rule.
He awoke in a strange place, in a strange time. It was an accident of fate. Humanity had lost everything worthwhile. Its Intelligence, its ability to Command, its Warrior Spirit. It had become weak and complacent. They had moved to the stars but they could not protect themselves from the horrors they had found there. That is why the fools released him from his icy slumber. They needed his intellect, his power, his savagery.
They knew who he was, of course. He was infamous. A walking nightmare that stalked every shadow. Even the most slack-brained idiot could recognize his face. They wanted to change him. Remake him into someone else, so he could move freely and unquestioned. They assured him every procedure was perfected reversible. As if he would believe them. As if he wasn't a means to an end for them. He would have refused, but the lives of his crew were more important.
He was reborn as John Harrison. There was barely a trace of him left. They said it was to fit his accent. Fools, they were just remaking him into their twisted image of perfection. His skin had been drained of all color. There wasn't even the faintest tan. His sharp black eyes were dyed palest blue. Chin, Lips, Cheekbones, everything was different. His hair was light brown before he dyed it back to black, and smooth and wavy, not curly and wiry. He looks like the tormentors of his people. It didn't matter. For now he would suffer in the gripe of these lower beings. He will wait for the moment when he and his family could break free.