Disclaimer- Look at chapter one.
Summary- Ever wonder what happened to Pietro and Wanda while they were living with Magneto? Here's their story.
Author's Note- I'm on a role here! This has to be my best chapter for this story yet! I am VERY proud of it (! A lot of it is flashback, and it's really quite sad. Hope you enjoy!
'Thought'
Chapter Two- Memory
They had eaten in stony silence. Erik had not come from his lab to join them for dinner like he said he would. Alfred the Butler said not to worry, that Master Lehnsherr probably discovered something interesting.
One of the maids, Anita, had shown them to their room. They had to share one for now, but she had said that they would get their own room soon. She had also gone to town to buy them some clothes, pajamas included. They of course, had smiled gratefully at her; truly glad she was there.
Anita was a stout woman, very tough, but very kind and gentle at the same time. She had come from Germany, which had delighted the twins, since they knew German. They thought they were originally from Germany before coming to the States, but they did not remember. They remembered their parents spoke a few languages. One of them was Romany, the gypsy language, and the other was German. Those were the only ones the twins had heard them speak in, but they thought they had known more.
Pietro changed into his blue pajamas and climbed into his twin bed. Across from him, Wanda did the same. He looked around the room for a minute before he yawned. He was really tired.
Anita knocked on the door and peeked her head in. She gave them a warm smile, "Gute Nacht Süße," [1] she said softly and closed the door.
The twins fell asleep, too exhausted to wish each other a good night, or say their prayers, or answer Anita. The only noise in their room was their steady and slow, rhythmic breathing.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Erik had stayed in his lab all night, intrigued with what he had discovered.
"How can this be?" he questioned himself. He had not known. How come she didn't tell him? This must be a mistake.
He had tested the blood samples three times. The results were always the same.
"Oh, Magda," he whispered in a choked voice. He had not known what had happened to her when she ran away that fateful night. The only thing he knew was that she was dead; they had found her body nearly buried in the snow. He had not known she was with child. Two children, in fact.
He vision blurred slightly, and he closed his eyes shut, digesting the overwhelming information. Why hadn't she told him?
Oh, Magda, how I wish you were here, alive and well.
He blinked his eyes rapidly, furious with himself for showing such weakness, even if he was alone.
He then felt a bitter resentment toward his dead, beloved wife. She had run away from him, because of what he was. She was just like all the other humans out there.
But then, she wasn't.
His heart ached at the mere thought of her. He had not spared a moment to think or remember her for nearly five years. Now, with the twins in his life, his children, he could not help but do otherwise.
Erik closed his eyes as a memory flashed before his eyes.
*~Flashback~*
Erik was surprised to see an angry mob outside of his home. They were carrying pitchforks, torches, guns, any kind weapon you could think of that a mere farmer or villager could get their hands on.
"Come out of there, freak!" A male voice shouted.
Erik rushed to his house, worried about his wife and child.
"What in God's name is going on here?" He shouted to them, confused and frightened.
Heads turned in his direction. A burly and grungy looking man with a pitchfork shouted, "There he is! The freak!"
Magda came out of the house then. She looked terrified. "Erik!" She cried in relief.
She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He embraced her gratefully.
"They frightened me, Erik! They just came without warning and started shouting all of these horrible things! Erik, I'm so glad you're home!" she cried into his neck.
"What is happening?" he asked frantically, "Is Anya alright?"
Magda nodded, "I locked her in the house. Erik, why are they calling you such horrid names?"
Another villager, this one tall and muscular with a scraggly beard shouted, "The child! She must be a freak too! Set their house on fire!"
A great roar of approval spread from the crowd, although some of them looked frightened at the thought of burning an innocent child. Many who carried torches tossed them on top of the roof of the beautiful and wooden house.
Magda screamed.
"My baby! My baby's in there!" She screamed, lunging forward, but Erik caught her around the waist. She clawed at the air towards the house, screaming at the top of her lungs, tears rolling down her beautiful face.
"No, Magda!" Erik warned vehemently. "I will get Anya! Stay here, away from the crowd. I will be back, I cannot have you injured!"
Magda fell to the ground crying, and rocking back and forth. She prayed aloud, asking for her daughter to make it out of there alive.
Erik rushed toward the house, intent on saving his only daughter. The crowd, however, would not have that. They charged at Erik, surrounding him, delaying the time he needed to save his daughter.
"Erik!" he heard Magda howl in shear terror when she saw her husband surrounded by angry and armed farmers and villagers while he remained defenseless.
"Please, my daughter, let me help her!" Erik pleaded with the crowd. A man advanced on him from behind and hit him hard on the side of the head. Erik collapsed, blood pouring down the side of his face. He breathed hard for moment, temporarily dazed from the pain. He squinted his eyes as some blood flowed into it, his eye burning. He wiped the side of his head with his sleeve, and stood up slowly.
Erik decided that there was no other way, "Sorry, Charles, but our little secret will have to go out in the open. I have no other choice," he whispered. His heart pounded as he readied himself.
An intense look of concentration etched his face as he raised his hand with his fingers spread, and all of the pitchforks and guns flew out of the people's hands and quite a few of them let out screams of horror and ran away from the house.
The braver ones stood their ground, however. "Let the spawn of this monster burn! She deserves to die, for she will become a freak also!"
Some of the people looked terrified. If they did not follow, they would be killed. But is it worth the life of a little girl?
Erik looked up at the house and in the window on the second floor, where a little round and six-year old face looked out of it in trepidation. Her small hands were plastered against the glass, and her mouth was open wide in a scream. Tears were rolling down her rosy cheeks. She coughed.
Angry hot tears shown in Erik's eyes and a great power he did not know he possessed overtook him. He looked at the crowd and with a wave of his hand, he moved them aside so he could make a path. For the first time in his life, Erik had controlled the iron in another human being's blood.
In the distance, he heard Magda scream again, but he ignored it and continued his way towards the house that was being engulfed in flames. The men charged at him but all Erik had to do was wave his hand and the pitchforks he had not managed to get flew out of their hands and spun above their heads like the others. Yet they still managed to block his path, delaying him further.
Over the angry shouts of the mob, Magda's screams, and the roar of the flames, he could now hear a new sound. It was screaming, but it was a little girl's. Anya was screaming.
"Poppa! Poppa! I'm burning! It hurts!"
Anya!
Erik was now overcome with panic and anger. He let out a snarl and raised both hands over his head, and the pitchforks and knives and all the metal weapons that had been floating above their heads came down, stabbing whatever human was in the way. For the first time in his life, Erik Lehnsherr killed another human being.
And he was not ashamed.
He levitated himself up to the second-floor window, berating himself for not thinking of that sooner. He punched the window, holding back a cry of agony as he broke his hand from the impact, and carefully climbed inside, careful to still make himself levitate so he wouldn't fall on the ground.
The entire house was filled with smoke and flames. He paused, coughing violently as he inhaled the smoke. Was Anya burned? Or did she suffocate from the smoke?
He created a magnetic shield around himself to protect his body from the smoke and the flames.
He mentally punched himself. He should not be thinking such horrible things. Anya was still alive. Anya. . .
"ANYA!" Erik cried when he saw something on the floor. He rushed over to it. It was a body, burnt to a crisp, some parts still alight with small flames, the rest smoking.
Erik hastily picked it up and ran down the stairs, where there was less flames and smoke. He burst out the front door.
Erik dropped to his knees and examined the body of his daughter that lay in his arms. He laid it gently on the ground, so as not to harm the body. Her light brown hair was gone, and the skin was burnt beyond recognition.
His throat tightened and he felt his heart hammering in his chest. He felt like he was going to die.
Her heard Magda let out a wail of agony and drop to her knees beside him, lightly touching the body, burning her fingers as she did so.
The smell of the burnt flesh was putrid, and Erik moved to the side, vomiting over and over. Magda's hand was clasped over her nose and mouth, her face ashen. Tears poured down like waterfalls down her face.
Erik's face contorted in grief. His little girl was dead. . . His little girl, all because of what he was. . .
Then a new feeling overcame Erik, this feeling more dominant than his grief. Anger.
He raised his head slowly, his face flushed red, his teeth bared, his blue eyes shining with tears. He looked up at the people who had done this to his daughter. He looked at them with such an intense loathing that it frightened many of them and they scampered. The very few that had remained seemed a little satisfied, and some of the others, horrified at what they had done. They had murdered an innocent little girl.
'They murdered MY little girl.'
He carefully lowered Anya's corpse to the ground and slowly stood up, his fists clenched at his side. Magda continued to stare at the ruined body of her only child, and started to rock back and forth. She looked up at her husband when she realized he had gotten up. He raised his arms out in front of him, unclenching his fists as he did so. Two men rose into the air, and with barely concentrating at all, so great was Erik's anger, he ripped the iron right out of their bodies. Blood soaked their shirts and they fell to the ground, the iron coming to Erik.
Erik formed them into little metal balls and looked at the twelve that remained. He formed six balls, and he shot them towards the people. They gave out yells of fright and they tried to run away, but Erik was too quick, and the metal shot right through them like a bullet, and he did it again, and again, and again, until they were only bleeding corpses on the ground. Their bodies were mutilated.
Erik stood there for a moment. No feeling of regret washed over him, only satisfaction. He avenged his little girl. His baby girl.
He turned back to his wife and dead child. He might of avenged Anya, but it did not bring her back to life. This only made him angrier.
Magda was looking up at him with frightened green eyes. Her dark hair was a mess, and her face was pale, even with her olive complexion.
"Come, my wife, let us lay our daughter to rest," he spoke gently, taking a step towards her.
She frantically crawled away backwards, and she rolled over and pushed herself up on her feet.
"Magda," Erik whispered in confusion. He reached out to her.
Magda gave a little yelp of fright and ran away, sobbing as she did so. She was frightened of him.
"You're not the man I married! What have you done with my husband?" she called over her shoulder, and her voice was laced with an emotional agony so great, that anybody listening or watching would have broken down in tears.
Erik felt his heart break. His own wife was frightened of him. His love was terrified of him.
"Magda?" he called out to her desperately, silently pleading for her not to go.
She kept running and Erik did nothing to stop her. He stood in the same place until he could no longer see his love anymore. He was so exhausted. Night had fallen.
The flames still burned the house. Everything he owned was gone. Every picture, every treasure he had ever owned, was gone.
Even his little girl.
He turned his head to her. She still lay there, lifeless.
He walked the few steps that separated him from her and he bent down and scooped her up in his arms and started walking towards the woods. The smell was still unbearable and he did everything to hold the vomit inside of him. A few times, he had to swallow it back up. He summoned one of the shovels that had been left behind to follow them.
He had buried his daughter not too far into the woods. It was a place he would remember where it was, and he would come back with a beautiful tombstone for her.
He knelt down in front of the grave and whispered in German, "Mein Gott legt, bitte mein schöne Tochter zu ruhen." [2]
*~End Flashback~*
Erik shook his head to rid himself of the memory.
He would tell Pietro and Wanda he was their father tomorrow, but for right now it could wait.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N- So what do you think of this chapter? I know it's mostly a flashback, but that kind of explains why Erik is like that. Thanks to all who reviewed! Please keep doing it!
Translations:
[1]- Good night, sweet ones
[2]- My God, please lay my beautiful daughter to rest
Like it? Hate it? Either way review!
Summary- Ever wonder what happened to Pietro and Wanda while they were living with Magneto? Here's their story.
Author's Note- I'm on a role here! This has to be my best chapter for this story yet! I am VERY proud of it (! A lot of it is flashback, and it's really quite sad. Hope you enjoy!
'Thought'
Chapter Two- Memory
They had eaten in stony silence. Erik had not come from his lab to join them for dinner like he said he would. Alfred the Butler said not to worry, that Master Lehnsherr probably discovered something interesting.
One of the maids, Anita, had shown them to their room. They had to share one for now, but she had said that they would get their own room soon. She had also gone to town to buy them some clothes, pajamas included. They of course, had smiled gratefully at her; truly glad she was there.
Anita was a stout woman, very tough, but very kind and gentle at the same time. She had come from Germany, which had delighted the twins, since they knew German. They thought they were originally from Germany before coming to the States, but they did not remember. They remembered their parents spoke a few languages. One of them was Romany, the gypsy language, and the other was German. Those were the only ones the twins had heard them speak in, but they thought they had known more.
Pietro changed into his blue pajamas and climbed into his twin bed. Across from him, Wanda did the same. He looked around the room for a minute before he yawned. He was really tired.
Anita knocked on the door and peeked her head in. She gave them a warm smile, "Gute Nacht Süße," [1] she said softly and closed the door.
The twins fell asleep, too exhausted to wish each other a good night, or say their prayers, or answer Anita. The only noise in their room was their steady and slow, rhythmic breathing.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Erik had stayed in his lab all night, intrigued with what he had discovered.
"How can this be?" he questioned himself. He had not known. How come she didn't tell him? This must be a mistake.
He had tested the blood samples three times. The results were always the same.
"Oh, Magda," he whispered in a choked voice. He had not known what had happened to her when she ran away that fateful night. The only thing he knew was that she was dead; they had found her body nearly buried in the snow. He had not known she was with child. Two children, in fact.
He vision blurred slightly, and he closed his eyes shut, digesting the overwhelming information. Why hadn't she told him?
Oh, Magda, how I wish you were here, alive and well.
He blinked his eyes rapidly, furious with himself for showing such weakness, even if he was alone.
He then felt a bitter resentment toward his dead, beloved wife. She had run away from him, because of what he was. She was just like all the other humans out there.
But then, she wasn't.
His heart ached at the mere thought of her. He had not spared a moment to think or remember her for nearly five years. Now, with the twins in his life, his children, he could not help but do otherwise.
Erik closed his eyes as a memory flashed before his eyes.
*~Flashback~*
Erik was surprised to see an angry mob outside of his home. They were carrying pitchforks, torches, guns, any kind weapon you could think of that a mere farmer or villager could get their hands on.
"Come out of there, freak!" A male voice shouted.
Erik rushed to his house, worried about his wife and child.
"What in God's name is going on here?" He shouted to them, confused and frightened.
Heads turned in his direction. A burly and grungy looking man with a pitchfork shouted, "There he is! The freak!"
Magda came out of the house then. She looked terrified. "Erik!" She cried in relief.
She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He embraced her gratefully.
"They frightened me, Erik! They just came without warning and started shouting all of these horrible things! Erik, I'm so glad you're home!" she cried into his neck.
"What is happening?" he asked frantically, "Is Anya alright?"
Magda nodded, "I locked her in the house. Erik, why are they calling you such horrid names?"
Another villager, this one tall and muscular with a scraggly beard shouted, "The child! She must be a freak too! Set their house on fire!"
A great roar of approval spread from the crowd, although some of them looked frightened at the thought of burning an innocent child. Many who carried torches tossed them on top of the roof of the beautiful and wooden house.
Magda screamed.
"My baby! My baby's in there!" She screamed, lunging forward, but Erik caught her around the waist. She clawed at the air towards the house, screaming at the top of her lungs, tears rolling down her beautiful face.
"No, Magda!" Erik warned vehemently. "I will get Anya! Stay here, away from the crowd. I will be back, I cannot have you injured!"
Magda fell to the ground crying, and rocking back and forth. She prayed aloud, asking for her daughter to make it out of there alive.
Erik rushed toward the house, intent on saving his only daughter. The crowd, however, would not have that. They charged at Erik, surrounding him, delaying the time he needed to save his daughter.
"Erik!" he heard Magda howl in shear terror when she saw her husband surrounded by angry and armed farmers and villagers while he remained defenseless.
"Please, my daughter, let me help her!" Erik pleaded with the crowd. A man advanced on him from behind and hit him hard on the side of the head. Erik collapsed, blood pouring down the side of his face. He breathed hard for moment, temporarily dazed from the pain. He squinted his eyes as some blood flowed into it, his eye burning. He wiped the side of his head with his sleeve, and stood up slowly.
Erik decided that there was no other way, "Sorry, Charles, but our little secret will have to go out in the open. I have no other choice," he whispered. His heart pounded as he readied himself.
An intense look of concentration etched his face as he raised his hand with his fingers spread, and all of the pitchforks and guns flew out of the people's hands and quite a few of them let out screams of horror and ran away from the house.
The braver ones stood their ground, however. "Let the spawn of this monster burn! She deserves to die, for she will become a freak also!"
Some of the people looked terrified. If they did not follow, they would be killed. But is it worth the life of a little girl?
Erik looked up at the house and in the window on the second floor, where a little round and six-year old face looked out of it in trepidation. Her small hands were plastered against the glass, and her mouth was open wide in a scream. Tears were rolling down her rosy cheeks. She coughed.
Angry hot tears shown in Erik's eyes and a great power he did not know he possessed overtook him. He looked at the crowd and with a wave of his hand, he moved them aside so he could make a path. For the first time in his life, Erik had controlled the iron in another human being's blood.
In the distance, he heard Magda scream again, but he ignored it and continued his way towards the house that was being engulfed in flames. The men charged at him but all Erik had to do was wave his hand and the pitchforks he had not managed to get flew out of their hands and spun above their heads like the others. Yet they still managed to block his path, delaying him further.
Over the angry shouts of the mob, Magda's screams, and the roar of the flames, he could now hear a new sound. It was screaming, but it was a little girl's. Anya was screaming.
"Poppa! Poppa! I'm burning! It hurts!"
Anya!
Erik was now overcome with panic and anger. He let out a snarl and raised both hands over his head, and the pitchforks and knives and all the metal weapons that had been floating above their heads came down, stabbing whatever human was in the way. For the first time in his life, Erik Lehnsherr killed another human being.
And he was not ashamed.
He levitated himself up to the second-floor window, berating himself for not thinking of that sooner. He punched the window, holding back a cry of agony as he broke his hand from the impact, and carefully climbed inside, careful to still make himself levitate so he wouldn't fall on the ground.
The entire house was filled with smoke and flames. He paused, coughing violently as he inhaled the smoke. Was Anya burned? Or did she suffocate from the smoke?
He created a magnetic shield around himself to protect his body from the smoke and the flames.
He mentally punched himself. He should not be thinking such horrible things. Anya was still alive. Anya. . .
"ANYA!" Erik cried when he saw something on the floor. He rushed over to it. It was a body, burnt to a crisp, some parts still alight with small flames, the rest smoking.
Erik hastily picked it up and ran down the stairs, where there was less flames and smoke. He burst out the front door.
Erik dropped to his knees and examined the body of his daughter that lay in his arms. He laid it gently on the ground, so as not to harm the body. Her light brown hair was gone, and the skin was burnt beyond recognition.
His throat tightened and he felt his heart hammering in his chest. He felt like he was going to die.
Her heard Magda let out a wail of agony and drop to her knees beside him, lightly touching the body, burning her fingers as she did so.
The smell of the burnt flesh was putrid, and Erik moved to the side, vomiting over and over. Magda's hand was clasped over her nose and mouth, her face ashen. Tears poured down like waterfalls down her face.
Erik's face contorted in grief. His little girl was dead. . . His little girl, all because of what he was. . .
Then a new feeling overcame Erik, this feeling more dominant than his grief. Anger.
He raised his head slowly, his face flushed red, his teeth bared, his blue eyes shining with tears. He looked up at the people who had done this to his daughter. He looked at them with such an intense loathing that it frightened many of them and they scampered. The very few that had remained seemed a little satisfied, and some of the others, horrified at what they had done. They had murdered an innocent little girl.
'They murdered MY little girl.'
He carefully lowered Anya's corpse to the ground and slowly stood up, his fists clenched at his side. Magda continued to stare at the ruined body of her only child, and started to rock back and forth. She looked up at her husband when she realized he had gotten up. He raised his arms out in front of him, unclenching his fists as he did so. Two men rose into the air, and with barely concentrating at all, so great was Erik's anger, he ripped the iron right out of their bodies. Blood soaked their shirts and they fell to the ground, the iron coming to Erik.
Erik formed them into little metal balls and looked at the twelve that remained. He formed six balls, and he shot them towards the people. They gave out yells of fright and they tried to run away, but Erik was too quick, and the metal shot right through them like a bullet, and he did it again, and again, and again, until they were only bleeding corpses on the ground. Their bodies were mutilated.
Erik stood there for a moment. No feeling of regret washed over him, only satisfaction. He avenged his little girl. His baby girl.
He turned back to his wife and dead child. He might of avenged Anya, but it did not bring her back to life. This only made him angrier.
Magda was looking up at him with frightened green eyes. Her dark hair was a mess, and her face was pale, even with her olive complexion.
"Come, my wife, let us lay our daughter to rest," he spoke gently, taking a step towards her.
She frantically crawled away backwards, and she rolled over and pushed herself up on her feet.
"Magda," Erik whispered in confusion. He reached out to her.
Magda gave a little yelp of fright and ran away, sobbing as she did so. She was frightened of him.
"You're not the man I married! What have you done with my husband?" she called over her shoulder, and her voice was laced with an emotional agony so great, that anybody listening or watching would have broken down in tears.
Erik felt his heart break. His own wife was frightened of him. His love was terrified of him.
"Magda?" he called out to her desperately, silently pleading for her not to go.
She kept running and Erik did nothing to stop her. He stood in the same place until he could no longer see his love anymore. He was so exhausted. Night had fallen.
The flames still burned the house. Everything he owned was gone. Every picture, every treasure he had ever owned, was gone.
Even his little girl.
He turned his head to her. She still lay there, lifeless.
He walked the few steps that separated him from her and he bent down and scooped her up in his arms and started walking towards the woods. The smell was still unbearable and he did everything to hold the vomit inside of him. A few times, he had to swallow it back up. He summoned one of the shovels that had been left behind to follow them.
He had buried his daughter not too far into the woods. It was a place he would remember where it was, and he would come back with a beautiful tombstone for her.
He knelt down in front of the grave and whispered in German, "Mein Gott legt, bitte mein schöne Tochter zu ruhen." [2]
*~End Flashback~*
Erik shook his head to rid himself of the memory.
He would tell Pietro and Wanda he was their father tomorrow, but for right now it could wait.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N- So what do you think of this chapter? I know it's mostly a flashback, but that kind of explains why Erik is like that. Thanks to all who reviewed! Please keep doing it!
Translations:
[1]- Good night, sweet ones
[2]- My God, please lay my beautiful daughter to rest
Like it? Hate it? Either way review!