A/N: Many thanks to crimson11116 and MrStranger01 for helping conceptualize this. I wasn't planning for the next update to be a Crisis 'verse drabble, but the plot bunnies dictate where I should bounce.
This entry stems from A Powerful Bond, and will be the backstory for the featured original character when she appears in Crisis of Infinite Cyclops Daughters.
Without further ado, enjoy!
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A Powerful Bond
Royalty Without a Crown
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Medusalith Amaquelin-Summers remembered the day her daughter was born.
The day she first held the crying bundle in her arms and gazed upon her full head of red hair, just a shade lighter than her own and splayed around her like tendrils, Medusa knew she had once more found love.
Scylla, the Inhuman mother named her half-breed daughter. A mighty beast of myth that conquered the turbulent seas—much like how, against all genetic odds, the bundle in her arms was conceived.
And grown through a turbulent nine months.
And finally born.
Scott had been overjoyed—and it could have just been the hormones making her lowering her guard to finally and truly see him, but it was the first time since their political marriage when Medusa realized Scott loved her, too.
Their familial situation wasn't ideal or what she expected, still. Krakoa had its own… proclivities, and she turned a tolerant eye towards her husband, who himself wasn't an exception.
But when their daughter was born, all doubts of Scott's sincerity beyond their political union were banished.
Scott loved her and, together, they loved their daughter.
Scylla.
Scylla Amaquelin-Summers.
Firstborn of the former Queen of the Inhumans and the reigning Captain Commander of Krakoa.
And Medusa found she had come to love him back, too.
She loved both them dearly, and she wanted them to share in the beauty and wonders of her culture—much as Scott had cradled them in his. Not out of obligation, but of sincere love.
But now, twelve years of wonder and hardships after their daughter's birth, Medusa's world came crashing down on her. And she feared she had lost it all, once more.
Were the Inhumans cursed? The demon of doubt whispered silkily in her ears. Was her blood cursed?
Now, in the dark room that smelled like disinfectant, with only the light of the stars cascading through the glass windows and the sounds of the monitors filling the dead silence, Medusa's heart clenched.
The ritual had been a disaster.
It started out well- as all things did.
She vividly recalled the joy in Scylla's eyes as the Terrigen Mist swirled around her. The delight on her daughter's lips when her hair began to awaken.
"I'm just like you!" Scylla had happily declared, and Medusa's own heart swelled with shared awe and pride.
And then, the unthinkable happened.
Scylla's whole body began to glow—her mutant power appearing to manifest itself—but something was palpably wrong. It took Medusa a second to register the panic in Scylla's eyes before her energy field seemed to overwhelm her.
Medusa could still hear the pained and terrified scream the ripped itself from Scylla's lips, her young body contorting so powerfully that Medusa worried her back would simply snap, and she immediately rushed towards her daughter—only to make it in time just as the light of her energy field finally coalesced around Scylla's eyes before, to everyone's horror, her beautiful orbs simply burst with an audible squelch.
The Inhuman royal had barely registered catching her bleeding and unconscious daughter. The mist surrounding her was quickly dispersed as the rest of the audience rushed towards the fallen child. Someone had grabbed her, pulling her away as the medics rushed towards Scylla.
But by then, Medusa had already grown hollow.
She was numb to everything, eyes remained transfixed on Scylla's prone form. She could not feel anything except Scylla's warm blood sliding down her face.
The catastrophe had left their daughter bedridden.
In the several hours since the incident, Medusa remained by her daughter's bedside, still. She didn't know where her husband—her partner was, but she also knew it was only a matter of time before he arrived.
What little light in the room only seemed to illuminate Scylla's unconscious form, drawing focus on the bandages—thankfully, fresh and no longer bloodstained—that covered her eyes.
She was only twelve. Her mind mocked. Scylla was only twelve, and you did this to her.
The tears in her eyes threatened to fall, and it was only her daughter's warm hand in hers that kept the dam back.
You did this to her!
You exposed her to the mist!
"Darling." Her husband's familiar baritone called, and it was only then she noticed she was no longer alone.
It seemed it was time, but she wasn't ready.
This wouldn't do.
"Scott." She acknowledged, but didn't make any move to look at him.
She couldn't—not now. Not yet.
"I want to be alone." Medusa finally managed to choke through her parched throat.
Scott closed the door behind him. "No."
"Please leave us, husband." She tried again even as she felt his presence draw closer. "I want to watch over her alone."
"No." Scott repeated.
Something snapped in her and she stood up. "Then I will leave." Medusa declared.
And yet, Scott stubbornly snagged her shoulders, keeping her in place.
"No." He said, once more.
"Let go of me!" She hissed, her hair shifting warningly.
"No." Scott remained unfazed. "Not this time."
"Can't you see, husband!" Damn her oaf of a spouse!
"See what?" He implored.
"I—I can't deal with this. Not..." Her breath hitched. Talking—it was a struggle, and having to speak further might actually kill her. "Not now."
"We're married, darling." Scott firmly reminded.
"You're only looking after our alliance." Medusa lashed out venomously. Goading him.
Anything to get him away from her just this one time.
Because...
"No. And I know you don't mean that."
"Please, Scott." Medusa finally caved, leaning into his embrace. "I don't want you to see me like this…"
"And I don't want you to be alone. Not now." Especially not when he knew how wrong it would be to be alone at this time.
"How could I have been so blind?" Medusa finally voiced. It was soft, a mixture of disbelief and defeat, and it twisted Scott's heart. "I spoke with Erik and Lorna about Luna. I consulted Karnak. Hank and Reed and Strange. Dr. Bradley and Dr. Reyes. Essex, even. They all said—I thought I did my due diligence."
Medusa had been a woman possessed in her obsession to get this right.
To keep their daughter safe.
"You did. Nobody could have predicted this would happen." He knew what they all said. Caution, yes, but the odds were low, and that was before taking into account how their miraculous Scylla seemed to keep beating the odds. "Remember, very few believed our daughter would ever be conceived, and then even fewer believed she would ever manifest anything. She is our miracle."
Medusa flinched. "And I allowed her harm..."
Scott inwardly winced, and he quickly replied, "That's not what I meant."
"No. But you know it's the truth." She accused him—but it sounded more like she was sentencing herself. "You might not say it. You might not even think it. But I know you know as well as I that I did this."
"You're being unfair on yourself. Take it from me, I know self-deprecation when I hear it." He tried inserting some levity, but it only made Medusa tense further in his arms. His lips curled into a reprimanding frown. "Darling, stop. You're not thinking straight."
"I had hoped the mist would bless her, Scott. The same way it blessed my people." Heavens, had she hoped and prayed! And for what! "I was assured by—I knew the risk. We all did."
"Scylla knew the risk, too." Scott said what she couldn't bring herself to say.
Young as she was, their daughter had actually understood. She had said it was her duty—it was the role she had to play—and Scott cursed himself for not dwelling more on the uneasiness in her smile when she made her intent known.
If their birthright as mutants manifested under duress, the Inhuman birthright was made manifest by sacred ritual.
The Terrigen Mist was indiscriminate, however.
"I believed in her, Scott! When she said she was ready—that she wanted to go through the ritual, I was overjoyed! I believed she could make that choice!" Medusa finally turned to face him, and Scott was taken aback by the sole tear that managed to escape.
Medusa had gone through a lot in her life, and she had persevered through it with utmost dignity. Very rarely did she ever cry.
"I believed even when you said we should still be cautious." Medusa continued in almost a whisper.
The incident was killing her inside, but not as much as she was killing herself. It was a feeling Scott knew all too well.
His hold on her tightened.
"I only stated that the outcome is uncertain." Scott pressed his eyes shut. Indeed, the situation was uncertain—but among the responsibilities of their union was to create the path to a shared future. To make that outcome certain, much as it churned his stomach and made his blood boil.
In the end, both he and his wife were powerless before those with actual power.
"I couldn't predict this." Scott repeated, his gaze downcast and ashamed. "For all I know, nothing would happen. Nobody could have accurately predicted this."
The implication why it was their daughter's eyes that horrifically exploded minutes into the ritual wasn't lost on Scott, although the exact reason was still under investigation.
He had his own theories, guilt, and fears, too.
"But someone did." Medusa's eyes suddenly widened and glinted with clarity. Her head whirled, her eyes boring into his. "Did—did Illyana know?" she whispered, accusatorily, even.
Scott's lips flattened. "Now you're just being hysterical." He pointed out.
"Husband." Medusa hissed. "Did. Illyana. Know?"
"No."
His answer didn't satisfy her.
"Then she knows, now." Medusa swiftly concluded. "Tell her, Scott. Tell her to go back in time and stop this."
"No."
When it was clear he would remain adamant, Medusa's posture shifted. Reaching out to him, grasping his arms, she, instead, pleaded, "Please, Scott. If—if not for me, then for our daughter."
Scott's jaw stiffened even as his heart hammered. It was very tempting, and the idea had crossed his mind several times in the past several hours since the incident, but, "You're being unreasonable, darling."
"Don't! Don't 'darling' me!" Medusa all but shouted, letting go of him as if suddenly scalded. Her hair flayed wildly around her in her frustration. "Can't you see I'm asking you to spare our daughter from this pain?"
Scott saw, and it took him a few moments to collect himself lest he lashed out, too.
"…If Illyana warned you, would you seriously believe her? Would all this stop?" He somberly, tiredly even, pressed. "Would your people? Would mine?"
The decision to push through with the Inhuman's ritual was, after all, the result of a deliberation that spanned their daughter's whole twelve years of life—that began even before Scylla's birth.
It wasn't a choice made lightly.
And in the end, the voices of the many drowned out the protests of the few.
"I- that's not the point…" Her red hair seemed to wilt.
"Medusa, answer me truthfully. Would you have believed in Illyana if she warned us?" He already knew the answer, and her silence only proved it. "You wouldn't. We'd listen to her, but the ritual would still push through."
"Then send her to the past to lock me up." When her husband remained firm, Medusa finally crumbled. "I—I can't bear this guilt, Scott." She lamented.
Medusa had wanted to believe that she was doing right by her daughter.
And it was for that sincere reason that her heart was now broken. That she was desperate.
Every time she gazed at their daughter's unconscious form, and she heard the steady beep signaling Scylla's slow and resting heartbeat, Medusa's own heart wept.
"You can't." Scott agreed. And then, tenderly, he lifted her chin. "But we can." He reassured her, quietly but firmly. "I allowed this to happen, Medusa. Don't you see? I could have stopped this, too. I was there. But all I had were words. I dissented, yes, but all I had were words."
He talked and protested but, in the end, he had stepped aside to stand by the Quiet Council and the Inhuman Royalty's decision.
He was just as guilty for this horrific act.
On his own blood, no less.
"I hurt her, Scott." Medusa pressed her head against his shoulder, and Scott's arms instinctively wrapped around her.
"No. Scylla did get hurt, but you didn't want to hurt her. You only wanted what you thought was best."
Medusa only wanted their daughter to share in her culture and history, to be blessed by the Terrigen Mist, as much as Scylla had taken part of what Mutantkind were gifted.
Scott sighed, combing a hand through her hair comfortingly. "Sometimes, all we can do is what we feel is right, and then hope that our children will turn out alright."
That was a lesson he had learned from Nathan.
Nathan—letting go of Nathan, those many, many years ago, was still the hardest thing he had ever done, but it still had to be done. To give him the chance to live.
Scott always counted himself fortunate that not only did Nathan return alive, but he harbored no ill will against him.
Medusa leaned further into his chest. "It hurts, Scott…"
"I know." No person could call themselves a parent if they didn't feel anything after seeing their child in this state. "But you and I, and Scylla—we'll all get through this. Together." He kissed her forehead. "So please, darling, keep your chin up."
Be the royal amidst this crisis.
Medusa wanted to—and she knew she had to.
She had to remain firm, and dignified, but a sliver of doubt crept and called.
"Her eyes…" Medusa's own saddened gaze swept towards their daughter's unconscious form.
"I've asked Josh to come down. When she's ready." When we're all ready, his grip on her shoulder reassured. "It won't erase the hurt, but at least she will still be able to see."
If she still chooses to.
It was difficult to tell how much the event had affected their daughter, and Scott could only hope that they would get through this. As a family.
And even then, their family wasn't alone. Jean and Emma had quickly volunteered to oversee Scylla's psychotherapy if needed. Kurt was ready to provide any spiritual guidance if asked.
Scott sensed they felt some guilt over the Quiet Council's ruling that lead to this horrific incident, but Scott also knew where their votes were cast.
"I'm sorry, my love." Medusa finally said, breaking the silence. She raised her head, shimmering and slightly puffy eyes searching for his own.
"I'm sorry, too." He whispered back.
"Would you…" Her eyes darted to the side, and then her grip tightened. She blinked her unshed tears away, and shook her head for good measure, before quietly commanding. "Please stay with me, tonight."
"Of course. I'm here for you and Scylla."
"Thank you." Medusa's eyes fluttered to a close as her weariness finally caught up with her. "And I'm sorry…"
"Shhh." Scott pressed his lips against her crown. "Just rest tonight, darling. I'll be here watching over the both of you."
He wouldn't fail again.
Not this time.
This time, things would be different.
It might not have been love that brought their union.
It might have been obligation that drove Scylla's conception.
It might have been politics that drove her upbringing.
But all that stopped now.
Now, Cyclops and Medusa were united in keeping their daughter safe above all.
And damn everyone, mutant and Inhuman both, if they stood against them.
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A/N: Parenting is hard. There really isn't one rule in parenting, even.
Be permissive; child ends up spoiled.
Be authoritarian; child ends up rebellious.
Mix the two; child ends up indecisive.
So, yeah, sucks to be a parents. Sucks even more if you're the representative of a political alliance of a two fictional species. But, hey, sometimes you just gotta trust through the uncertainties.
Now, for a few explanations:
- I tried to give realistic arguments for why the decision was made, and I pretty much stated that it wasn't a spur of the moment decision. It was a combination of politics (QC & Inhuman Royalty), wishful thinking / belief in the benevolence of the mists (Medusa), and upholding the council's decree (Scott).
Would Utopia!Scott support this? No. That dude essentially went to war with the Avengers over them imprisoning his (ungrateful) granddaughter, at best, or assassinating her, at worst, over a possibility.
But Krakoa!Scott would- just look at The Crucible, and having Mr. Sinister, of all people, handle his brother's rehabilitation. And, sure, maybe somewhere down the road of Hickman's run, Captain Commander Summers will start a revolution, but current canon isn't there yet. Just consider this Scott returning-to-form. He's going to be quite the hell-raiser, in this fanon, from this point onward.
- There's also a bit of hindsight bias going on, here. The phrase "hindsight is 20/20" implies that only when an outcome has manifested can all the decisions leading to it be clear. Could things have turned out better? Sure—I could have written that, too. But I'm not a believer in happily ever afters, but in trade-offs in life that need to be recognized and surmounted. In this case, the Amaquelin-Summers family has a lot to overcome, but now they're all united and fully committed to that endeavor.
- It's not so much that Scott and/or Illyana don't care about what happened, but a case of at what point is the line drawn when you go down that rabbit hole? Should every bump and bruise be averted? And there's the political and cultural impacts of the union—where both sides are essentially gathering data to see if coexistence can really be achieved.
- Side-note, I really like Illyana as a character (apart from being such a badass, of course). She's the get-out-of-jail card, but the price is not necessarily free. An almost-literal devil's bargain, so to speak. Even in the previous chapter where Illyana's compared to a zashiki-warashi, there's still a very real possibility that Illyana tampering with time will cause a bad outcome, too. The irony in the previous chapter, of course, is that it was Illyana's choice to tamper with time that lead to all of Scott's deaths.
- I'm surprised no one has yet to mention how bizarre it is for Scott to address someone as 'darling', even as endearment. But I suppose pairing Cyke with Medusa is, in itself, already bizarre.
- I took extreme liberties with the Scylla name. Sorry! I wanted to keep the naming theme going, and Scylla Amaquelin-Summers just has such a nice ring to it. Also helps that a Scylla is technically a tentacle monster, too…
- For more explanations / backstories of the, ah, Crisis Daughters, please feel free to visit my forum, Just in Space.
Final note: I so very, very, very wanted to title this chapter "The Guilty Crown" just for weeboo's sake, but it couldn't quite convey the powerlessness I was going for in this drabble.
Anyways.
Hope y'all are still keeping safe! Hands washed, cough etiquette nailed, and all that~
As always, if you like what you've read, please drop a review.
And feel free to join the discussion in my Just in Space forum hosted here on this website. With the CykeDusa daughter—Scylla Amaquelin-Summers—backstory done, the next focus would, ideally, be Tyke-23's, Sarah Summers.
Until the next one! Ciao~!
