Disclaimer: I do not own the X-Men in any size, shape, or form. Please don't sue me or steal my strange, AU story. Thanks!
Fabella Corvi
By Rowena Zahnrei
The temple lay in ruins, its once majestic staircase and imposing statues eroded and half-buried in the Egyptian sand. It had been built many civilizations past, dedicated out of fear to a wrathful deity of war and conquest. In his day, this ruthless god had rivaled even the Pharaoh in power and prestige.
Yet, as the centuries passed his deeds and stories, even his name, had been forgotten. To most modern scholars, the very existence of his temple was a point of contention, all but a crackpot few believing it was much more than a rumored legend.
Raven knew differently.
Climbing down from her camel's back, the lithe, slender woman strode the last few feet to the crumbled heap she had once known better than any place on earth. She'd been born in this temple, grown up tending the flames and collecting the offerings left by the terrified faithful. For a time, she had even been worshipped as a minor deity herself.
But all that was far behind her now, an ancient memory as windswept and neglected as the unrecognizable stones before her. She had lived countless lifetimes since then, taken on countless identities, to the point where Raven hardly knew who she was anymore. Even her most recent identity - the persona she had kept up the longest - had long ago become an unbearable burden.
Raven had spent the last thirty-odd years working with Magneto to further the cause of mutant superiority. She'd helped found the Brotherhood, developed the skills and mentality of a dangerous terrorist - only to watch as, time and again, that arrogant, thankless fool of a man took the credit for her plans.
Well, she'd had it. Magneto's glorious 'cause' just wasn't worth it anymore. All the plotting and scheming and hiding that had ruled her life lately, the malicious manipulation of her children, the pain she had caused those closest to her...what had it gotten her?
An empty apartment, that's what. The suspicion and hatred of her own kind, both Xavier's X-Men and Magneto's Brotherhood. And, the awful knowledge that the one person she cared about most in this world, the only person she had ever loved more than her own, pathetic life, despised the very thought of her.
After a lifetime spanning more than two thousand years, the mistress of deception was growing tired of her art. She was tired of the constant lies, of always concealing her self behind her own skin. In the months since leaving Magneto, her mind had been turning more and more to fantasies of a 'normal' life, a life where she could show her own face to those she loved, hear them call her by her real name. She wanted to live a life without lies, where she could trust and be trusted in return.
But, before she had a hope of making her dreams of a fresh start come true, Raven needed a fool-proof way to shed the stigma of Mystique, her cruelty, and her crimes...forever.
Shrugging off the thin, white cloths that had protected her blue skin from the blistering sunlight and abrasive sand, Raven climbed to the top of the ruin she had abandoned millennia ago. She had left, then, against her father's will, running from sheltered life she'd known with a firm vow never to return.
Truthfully, only pride had kept her away so long. But, pride was no longer an issue. Now, she had a higher purpose - and a plan. She only needed the means to make it all a reality.
"Father!" Raven called out, her sharp voice echoing eerily against the long-tumbled walls and pillars.
"Father, I have returned. It's Raven. I—"
She choked on the distastful words, forcing them through her reluctant throat...
"I need your help."
There was a long pause, the silence of the desert pounding in her ears, mingling with the rhythm of her heartbeat. Then, the ground began to shake and rumble, dust and sand pouring from the ruin in rivulets.
Raven wheeled her arms, bending her knees as she struggled to keep her balance.
As suddenly as it had begun, the minor earthquake stopped. Raven lowered her arms with a snap, glaring at the faceless statue that had risen up beside her.
"That was not necessary," she snapped. "You can talk to me from under there."
The earthquake started again, the angry tremors more violent then before.
Raven snarled, bearing her teeth as she rode out the shock waves.
"Fine then," she said snippily, shaking sand out of her flaming, red hair. "But I'll only say your name once. Don't think I'm stupid enough to let you out of there for good. And none of your tricks either, dearest Father. I've learned a few things since the last time we saw each other."
The ground rumbled again, but less forcefully this time. Raven curled her lip, but took a deep breath and uttered her father's real name; a name only she could speak without fear of dire consequences.
"En Sabah Nur!" she shouted, her voice powerful, resonant and strong, "I, Raven, summon you."
She crossed her arms over her chest.
"There. Now show your ugly face, already. I want to talk to you."
The statue beside her began to quiver, its eroded features becoming sharper, more defined. Soon, the pale rock had taken the form of a tall, powerful man with cold, white eyes and a blunt, square jaw. His skin was silver and his lips were blue, as was the gleaming metallic suit he wore. He peered down at Raven with a disapproving frown, his brow furrowing over his thick nose.
Raven nodded to him, her lips twisted in a slight sneer.
"Apocalypse," she greeted. "You're looking as well as can be expected, considering where you've been these past one hundred fifty years or so."
"Raven?" the enormous metamorph rumbled angrily, roving his eyes over her slender form. "Why do you come to me in this shameful guise!"
"There is nothing shameful about this form, Father," Raven retorted, the Mystique in her flaring up as she straightened with a glare that mirrored his. Then she averted her golden eyes, her expression hard. "Only the twisted soul that resides within it."
Apocalypse's frown deepened.
"Show me your true face, Corvus," he ordered, using the Latin name he had given his child at birth. "I wish to look upon my son."
Raven flinched, the sound of her given name reviving a host of feelings she'd thought long dead.
"I have shown no one that face since the night I left this place," she said softly, her eyes distant with memory. "I'm not sure I can remember..."
"How long have you been wearing this female form?" he snarled in disgust. "Where is your honor, boy?"
Raven shot him her deadliest glare.
"Honor has nothing to do with this. Nor does gender. I'm a shapeshifter, father, just as you are. Altering my outer appearance, changing my identity - that is what I do. But, unlike you, I've had to spend most of my life learning to use my skills to try to blend into human society. And, human society tends to get suspicious when one of their number doesn't age. I have had to change my face so many times just to keep my cover. I've lived as men, women, children...even animals! Twenty years in this town, ten in that city, always needing to have a new identity ready, a new life waiting, just in case my so-called friends discover my secret and decide to hold a lynching...!"
She trailed off, her fists and shoulders tightening as she fought to reign in centuries of hidden anguish. With great effort, she forced her racing heart to calm and her voice to return to its usual register.
"But, I can't do it anymore, Dad," she admitted, meeting his cold eyes with her own. "I can't live like this for another day. That's why I've come to you."
"I suspect there is more to your presence here," Apocalypse observed. "But, I refuse to hold further conversation with you until you drop this guise and show me your face."
He crossed his arms imperiously, fixing his child with his sternest glare.
Raven scowled dangerously, as though testing her will against her father's.
Finally, she sighed and closed her golden eyes.
"Very well," she said curtly. "I'll give it a try. Though, I must admit I have gotten rather attached to this face over the years...if not the persona that goes with it," she muttered under her breath.
Raven's face took on an expression of total concentration, her slender form slowly beginning to change. When it was over, Raven's height and golden eyes remained the same, but Mystique's flaming red hair and distinctive blue skin were gone. A young man stood in her place, his features regal, his short, black hair falling over his forehead in soft curls. His skin was smooth and tan, the light of the fading sun lending it a dusky, reddish-brown hue.
"Marcus Corvus," Apocalypse rumbled approvingly, his stony face softening into what could have passed for a smile. "It is good to see you again, my son. You have been away for far too long."
Corvus frowned up at Apocalypse, his expression hard. But, before he could speak, his long, spaded tail betrayed his anxiety by wrapping itself nervously around his leg.
"Blast," he muttered, glaring at his traitor tail as he forced it to unwind itself. "I'd forgotten how much I loathe this tail. How does Kurt deal with this day after day? Damned lie detector has a mind of its own."
"Kurt?" Apocalypse repeated, furrowing his brow at the unfamiliar name. "Who is that?"
"My son," Corvus snapped, grabbing the spade in his hands to keep it from lashing around. "Your grandson, now I come to think of it. He's just about the age I was when I left this place."
"And, have you never shown him your face?" Apocalypse rumbled angrily. "Have you never told him who you are?"
"I couldn't!" Corvus said. "He would never understand. He knows me only as the woman Mystique."
Apocalypse's thick features twisted in revulsion as his son's words sparked a sudden, disturbing thought in his mind.
"But...you cannot be his mother," he exclaimed.
"If Loki could give birth to a horse, I could certainly carry a child to term," Corvus retorted, but his golden eyes glowed with deep pain. "But...no. I am his father. Though, he thinks Mystique is his mother."
"What of his real mother?" Apocalypse pressed, still uncomfortable with his son's apparent nonchalance when it came to shifting genders.
"She is dead," Corvus said, his tail lashing like a whip as it slipped out of his hands. "Kurt knows nothing about her."
"Why not?"
Corvus shuddered, raw fury ripping through his expression like lightening.
"How can I tell him his real mother was stoned alive by the superstitious morons of her town because they thought my beautiful little boy was the devil's son?!" he exclaimed, his voice harsh and bitter. "How can I explain that, when I returned to that town almost a year after what I had thought to be a one night stand, I found Elsie battered and broken, while the son I didn't even know I had screamed in terror from the cage they'd locked him in like...like some kind of animal!"
Corvus took in a shuddering breath, his pulse thundering in his temples.
"And, he was so obviously my son," he whispered. "I knew at first glance..."
He spun away, swallowing hard against the guilt blocking his throat, the shameful stinging in his eyes...
"How can I tell him that I didn't even try to rescue his mother?" he demanded, his voice cracking despite all his efforts at control. "That I joined in with the mob's angry cries, remaining safely hidden in female form while she pleaded for mercy? I did go for the cage, managed to get the child out, but when the mob turned on me, I didn't run, didn't make a stand. I led them to the waterfall...made sure I was the one to drop my deformed, mutant son into the freezing river..."
He bowed his head, unable to prevent the burning tears from trickling down his face.
"I learned later that a poor Bavarian couple had fished him out of the river several miles downstream, but I didn't try to claim him even then. I convinced myself I was too busy with my work, paving the way for Magneto's dream of mutant superiority. I had no time to raise an infant, and a boy with such obvious physical mutations would only hold me back, drag me down..."
He shuddered, his youthful face seeming ancient and careworn.
"I'd rather Kurt believe his mother is a cold-blooded terrorist than know his father is nothing more than a shame-faced coward," he said, wiping his golden eyes with his smooth, spaded tail.
"Perhaps you're right," Apocalypse rumbled, his white eyes cold. "But, your unfortunate Elsie is not the only one you have left to the mercy of a soulless mob." He turned a dark, pointed glance to his crumbling temple. "And your little son is not the only one you deserted when he was at his weakest."
Corvus glared, his golden eyes flashing.
"I knew you'd be like this," he said, kicking at a loose stone with his sandaled foot. "It isn't my fault you were locked in suspended animation. You brought your defeat upon yourself, trying to take on the entire Roman Empire with that puny mutant army of yours. And then, just after you found a way out of that prison, you promptly got yourself stuck in another one by your own ally!"
"Sinister was never my ally," Apocalypse snapped. "He was an ungrateful, whiny twit who showed me no respect, no—"
"Well, what did you expect, Dad?" Corvus retorted. "You tried to unleash a deadly plague that would have decimated the British Empire! Or did you forget that Sinister was English?"
Apocalypse glared down at him, his expression stern and unwavering.
"Tell me, Corvus," he demanded, his deep voice sharp and cold. "Why did you come here?"
Corvus stiffened at his father's tone, then sighed in exasperation.
"You want to know why I came here," he said, his tail agitatedly brushing the sand behind him into a fan pattern. "I'll tell you why I came. You want out of this tomb, right?"
"Of course," his father growled.
"I can give you a chance to escape," Corvus stated confidently. "All I ask in return is for you to help me fake my own death."
"Why do you need me for that?" Apocalypse asked with a frown. "Haven't you had enough practice over the years?"
"I never needed to fool a telepath before!" Corvus snapped.
Apocalypse scowled, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
"Perhaps it might be better if you explained all this to me from the beginning," he said. "Just what are you planning to do?"
Corvus sighed, deeply annoyed. But his father was right. He couldn't expect his help unless he was willing to tell him everything.
Well...almost everything.
"When I first created the Mystique persona I thought I was so clever," he said, shaking his curly head. "She openly flouted her mutancy, yet could still manage to blend into the crowd if things got tough. As an added bonus, as a shapeshifter she didn't have to age like other people, so I could keep up the act as long as I wanted. Little did I know the persona's flexibility would be a trap in itself..."
He snarled, frowning down at his hands as he clasped them before him.
"I hate the woman," he declared. "I truly despise her. Mystique has managed to alienate everyone she ever cared about; everyone who might have cared about her. But I'm the one who's suffered through her cold-blooded acts; I more than anyone else."
Apocalypse listened in silence, his expression turning thoughtful.
"What I want," Corvus said with a desperation that surprised even him, "is the chance to go back to them as myself - to make a fresh start. I want to at least be a friend to my son, if I can't be the father he deserves. And to my adopted daughter, Rogue... I have so much to make up to them."
He straightened, his golden gaze clear and steady.
"But most of all, I want the chance to tell the woman I have adored for so long that I do love her, more than I have loved any other woman. We have corresponded in secret...through letters, the Internet...for years, but I have never...never once approached her. Not with Mystique standing between us. Still, she and I... We come from the same place, share such a similar background... I have never related more deeply to anyone. She is the one person I can see myself growing old with, despite the fact that I never will grow old. But, if she ever learned I had been Mystique, if that blasted telepath were to tell her... Well, therein lies the problem."
Apocalypse kept silent, his hard expression oddly sympathetic.
Corvus regarded him suspiciously, his tail lashing in agitation while he waited for his father to speak.
"I understand your dilemma, my son," he said at last, his deep voice surprisingly soft. "I loved your mother much the same way. And, for a time, she loved me too. Until the Pharaoh's attempts to kill me failed, and she realized what I was."
He clenched his massive fist, his white eyes burning.
"Nephri rejected me, renouncing our union and our son. And now it seems the cycle is repeating itself. You wish to tell the woman you love the truth about who you are, yet it is that very truth that will cause her to turn from you."
"Yes, that's pretty much it," Corvus said. "Unless I can find a way to rid myself of Mystique without causing any suspicion. And, that's where you come in."
Apocalypse regarded his son, his expression grim.
"There is a way," he said. "But I fear it will require too much of a sacrifice for you, my son. Are you certain that if you told this woman of your love for her, she would return it in kind?"
Corvus lowered his head, his tail twitching nervous patterns into the sand around his ankles.
"No," he admitted softly. "In fact, there's a good chance she would reject me regardless. My lady is extremely independent-minded...as I am."
He looked up then, his lean, coppery face determined.
"But, just to have the chance to court her, to spend time with her, to let her get to know who I truly am... Father, it would be worth any sacrifice you could name. I love her."
Apocalypse nodded, if a little sadly.
"That is how I knew you would respond," he said. "Listen closely then, my son. Locked deep within my temple, there is an amulet with the power to turn living flesh to stone. Normally, this would kill the intended victim - unless the victim activates his mutant powers at the precise moment he first looks upon the amulet's gem. When that happens, a precise stone copy of the victim is created, but the victim himself remains alive."
The enormous man leaned forward, his metallic armor gleaming in the fading rays of the setting sun.
"If you choose to go through with this, Marcus Corvus," he said, his voice eerily intense, "you will revert to your natural form, but you will lose your mutant power forever. You will no longer be able to shapeshift, and your life will end after a span of only seventy or eighty years."
Corvus blinked. His dark face grew ashen, and he swallowed hard.
Then, slowly, he straightened, squaring his shoulders in firm determination.
"I told you I was willing to make any sacrifice," he stated calmly, "and it's true. I'll find that amulet. I've wasted too many years living a life of hatred and violence. I don't intend to waste the rest."
Corvus smiled, feeling lighter than he had in years. It actually seemed that everything was starting to come together.
"And now," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Back to that plan I was telling you about. Before I came here, I worked out a scheme that - if it works - might free you from this prison."
He smiled as his father leaned closer, his obnoxious tail finally calming as he warmed to his topic.
"Let me give you the details..."
One Year Later...
Mark Corvus jogged up the steps to the Xavier Institute's main door, flicking off his image inducer and nervously straightening his tie before reaching for the doorbell. The tinkling chimes helped soothe his jitters somewhat, but didn't keep his tail from lashing like a whip behind him.
This was ridiculous. He felt like a schoolboy on his first date, not a grown man, waiting to greet a woman he'd known and loved for years.
He reached into his jacket pocket, fingering the velvety box he'd been carrying with him for the past month, and his heart started pounding in his throat.
No, he'd never been so nervous, not even when he had stood before that amulet a year ago. Apocalypse had really come through for him that day, pulling his unconscious body to safety mere moments before the X-Men found the stony shell that was all that remained of Mystique. His father's gesture had been so uncharacteristically kind that Corvus had almost felt it a shame when Xavier's team had defeated him so soon afterwards.
But, even when he'd first devised the plan, he'd counted on Apocalypse's defeat. Corvus held no illusions about the grave danger his powerful, megalomaniac of a father posed to the world.
The curtains moved, and a pair of glowing, golden eyes peered out the bay window. A moment later, a grinning, blue teenager appeared on the stoop beside him in a flash of smoke.
BAMF!
"Kurt!"
"Hey, Dad!"
The boy greeted Corvus with a warm hug. Corvus felt his tail wrap around his son's waist almost of its own accord, smiling when Kurt's fuzzy tail returned the brief embrace.
"Let me guess," Kurt teased, his southern German accent a reminder of Elsie and a past Corvus had yet to share. "You've come to steal away my teacher for yet another romantic evening alone. And on a school night, too."
He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head in mock disapproval.
"Is this any kind of example to set for us kids?"
Mark chuckled, reaching out to affectionately tousle his son's long, indigo hair, allowing himself to revel in the touch and the trust it implied.
"If you're so worried about your teacher's reputation," he said, reaching into his pocket. "Check this out."
He winked conspiratorially, pulling out the little box.
Kurt's eyes widened as Mark opened it, revealing a delicately woven gold band set with a small, but elegant diamond.
Kurt opened his mouth, but Mark raised a finger to his lips.
"Not a word," he said, and smiled. "I want this to be a complete surprise. Now, go find her for me, OK? And, don't tell her it's me! I'll be right here."
Kurt beamed brightly, shooting his father a thumbs up of sincere approval.
"Ja! Sure thing, man!" he said, and vanished in a BAMF of sulfurous smoke.
Mark held his breath, waiting for the smoke to dissipate, then chuckled softly in amusement. He still wasn't sure which side of the family the boy had inherited that trick from.
His musings were interrupted by what was, to his ears, possibly the sweetest sound in all the world. His love's low voice was like music, even through the closed door, and he shivered despite himself, his heart pounding as all his nerves returned in a jittery rush of goosebumps.
"Kurt?" he heard her say. "You certainly look happy. Who's at the door?"
"Don't look at me," Kurt replied, his smile audible in his voice. "But, I think it's for you, Fraulein Storm."
The End
REFERENCE NOTE: This story is AU. It was primarily inspired by a writing challenge prompt (most unusual paring), but it was also influenced by an idea pitched back in the '80s that cast Destiny (Irene Adler) as Nightcrawler's biological mother and her partner, Mystique, as Nightcrawler's biological father. Comic codes at the time wouldn't allow it, despite Mystique being a shapeshifter, but I think it's a better idea than that whole Azazel thing, and would have given Kurt closer ties with his 'sister' Rogue. Anyway, most of the Apocalypse factoids in here were gleaned from "X-Men: The Ultimate Guide, The Updated Edition" by Peter Sanderson, pages 110-111. Lots of Mystique's plan was based on plot summaries from several episodes of "X-Men: Evolution" that I still haven't seen, but will track down someday. The rest of it, I quite shamelessly made up.
NOTE II: Fabella Corvi means The Raven's Tale. Corvus means 'Raven' in Latin. For the purposes of this story, Raven was born around the time Rome took over Egypt - mainly because I don't have a clue how to say 'Raven' in Ancient Egyptian. ;) Also, although the Pharaoh referred to in the comics was a man, for the purposes of this story it's Cleopatra shortly before the end of her reign. This is an AU story, after all!
NOTE III: Apocalypse's real name, En Sabah Nur, literally means "The First One" according to "X-Men: The Ultimate Guide."
I hope you enjoyed my story! :)