"You're Magneto."
She had just put her niece to sleep. Erik had no intention of dealing with a crying baby on top of a probably panicking human. He had just waited near her house—of course he managed to track her down, he was not incompetent—until she could talk.
He did not care how she perceived him. Around humans, he had two strategies.
For once, he just spoke in his natural light German accent. He spoke the truth.
"Yes."
"You're my niece's biological father."
"Yes."
"How long have you known?"
"I found out when Suzanna was six months pregnant. Her husband spoke to me after the baby was born. That is the end of our contact."
She took a moment to collect herself. "If anyone finds out she's your daughter… it would be the end of her life."
He nodded. "Including Lorna herself."
He had already given up this chance to raise her once. He had another chance, he could do it. He could watch her grow into a woman…
But he could not.
He could not be selfish.
"I can't raise her. She would never have a real life. She doesn't deserve that." She deserved the world he would create. That was the life she deserved. Not a life of fighting. She would not have to be a fighter. "She will be a mutant, you do know that?"
"I figured as much." Arnold's sister closed her eyes for just an instant. "Do you want to meet your daughter?"
His daughter.
He nodded weakly. He was supposed to be the leader of the mutant cause. And… now he was almost crying.
No.
He had to fight it.
She walked inside the house. Not very large, but not small either. Not very notable, but he could never keep an eye on it. Whether it would be the government or literally anyone, they could hurt her here.
"She's asleep now, but… are you okay?"
Lorna was… god, she looked…
The metal around him began to shake. Only slightly, but enough. His forcefields were under his control; they were harder to create than just mere movements of metal.
He pulled them out to stop himself from destroying her house.
She was beautiful.
He walked towards her slowly, making sure each step was silent as to not wake her from her sleep.
Her aunt stayed still, deathly still. He knew that fear. It was fear of Magneto. He did not care. Nothing else mattered right now. His daughter was sleeping so… so peacefully.
For the first time in… years, decades, maybe, he felt warm water sliding down his cheek.
His emotions were out of his control.
His daughter was… she was there. Alive. She was not the sweetness of Wanda or the innocence of Anya. She was a different person.
For a brief moment, he considered it. He had not considered it since first meeting Charles. It had not crossed his mind since his best friend was inside his mind those decades ago.
He truly considered what it would take to raise his daughter instead of fighting.
It would take dooming mutantkind.
The best thing he could do for her was to create a world she could live freely in.
She was beautiful. Beautiful, flawless. Her green eyes just… she got those from her mother. Her hair was an odd color of black, he just knew it would affect her mutant powers.
Words of Hebrew escaped his lips in a whisper. When was the last time he prayed? Spoke in Hebrew? Not conversational, but the language of prayer he still remembered after all this time?
His mother and father had both uttered these words countless times. It was not a song, not a hymn. It was their pleas they would be safe, their pleas Erik would be safe, and he understood why they could have kept their faith after everything. Lorna's breaths were a gift from Adonai. He could not keep that faith, but he could understand. The whispers, he told himself, were for them. Not because he was begging a god he had given up on so long ago to keep his daughter safe, to keep her free from harm. To protect her, to guide her. To spare her from the fate that took Anya. No, the whispers, he told himself, were for his mother and his father and for their love.
"Hashkiveinu Adonai Eloheinu l'shalom,
v'ha'amideinu malkeinu l'hayyim. Ufros
aleinu sukkat sh'lomekha. … U-sh'mor
tzeteinu u-vo'einu l'hayim u-l'shalom mei'ata
v'ad olam. Barukh atah Adonai, ha-poreis
sukkat shalom, aleinu v'al kol amo yisrael,
v'al y'rushalayim."
Then he finished.
He forced himself not to touch his daughter, pushing the tears back. Pushing everything back, back behind his walls. For Lorna, for mutants, he could not afford to let his emotions get the best of him.
He stepped back.
"She deserves a parent who can be there for her." And the next words shattered him again. "I know she isn't your blood, but can you…" He was sentencing himself to never see her again, not as her father, again. The first time, she was inside her mother's womb with no guarantee she would survive the birth. Now… he felt only love towards her.
"I can." Her voice sounded strong, determined. "I'll raise her. She is my niece, whatever her DNA may say."
A flurry of emotions hit him, all at once.
He could not tell them apart. Was it grief or relief or happiness or sadness?
The metal around him began to shake again before he regained control. It took far too long; his daughter's aunt was not oblivious enough to not notice.
He believed her name was Amaya. Amaya Dane.
"Thank you, Amaya."
But she was in the Houston suburbs.
It was the opposite of safe for a mutant, much less Magneto's daughter.
"We can't stay here, can we?"
"I… I can arrange for somewhere farther away from people. A farm or something similar."
Telling anyone to move to a farm just made him sound mean.
"I've always wanted a farm." Well. They were different in that way. "I can move to the middle of nowhere for her. I will treat her like my own daughter. I swear on my life. But I have one condition, Magneto."
"Magnus."
"What?"
"It was an alias of mine. Few know it is the name of Magneto as well. It's safer that way."
"I still have one condition."
The next words were so utterly true he barely recognized them when he said them. "Anything."
"Don't recruit her. Don't let her join whatever you're planning. Even if she comes to you, don't let her. Guide her off that path, keep her safe, but don't let her follow your path. Don't make Lorna a killer."
"I promise."
This was a promise he could make.
It was a promise he knew he could make. A promise he knew he could keep.
"What do I have to do to get off the grid? I doubt this is your first round in hiding."
He did not reply to what may have been a quip and may have been a perfectly legitimate comment. "Start a kitchen fire. Burn down this house, burn any evidence they might be able to use to track you down. Decide to move to the country instead of staying here now that your home is gone. Don't allow anyone to as much as suspect it was arson. When you arrive at the farm, get comfortable. Don't be paranoid for no reason. Make friends. The time to be paranoid is after everyone trusts you. I can help you move anything you wouldn't have with you on a normal day, and we can replace the rest."
Her hesitation was brief.
"Okay. Where will the farm be?"
"I don't own land anywhere. I do have connections. Perhaps Indiana?" Where were American farms anyway?
"Yeah, I'll take that up with your connections."
He said nothing in reply, his eyes still trained on Lorna.
"Please… tell my daughter she is loved."
"Of course."
"This has to be my last time with her. If anyone sees me, you will be questioned."
"Only if they recognize you. You still can't be in her life, but perhaps you could see her as my 'friend.'"
"Thank you." But he knew he could never be the father he wanted to be.
There was nothing else to say.
Amaya seemed to disagree.
"Does it change anything? For you?"
"I have a daughter. This changes everything."
"I mean in your… lifestyle." She paused, saying the next words with steel. "Terrorism."
He briefly remembered she was a human. She would understand better when Lorna grew up, but for now, she had no idea. She understood even less than Charles's X-Men did.
He stood a little taller. His tears were gone. The love he felt towards Lorna was a protective love. He had to protect her. Had to create an age where she could live without fear. "I want to create a world where my daughter does not have to suffer like I did."
"I'm surprised you didn't say you aren't a terrorist."
"History is written by the victors. It's nothing but a reminder I am not one yet."
He allowed himself one more long look at his baby.
"I should go. What would you like the farm?"
She thought it over for a second. "California. I've always wanted to live there."
Humans.
What was the big thing with California? He had lived there for a bit, and it was nothing special.
Not any worse than the rest of America but certainly no better.
"I'll contact you when the arrangements are made. Be ready."
She nodded. For a human, she was strong. She had made no move to make herself appear smaller or anything most humans, and often mutants, did around him despite being afraid. She would raise Lorna well.
"I will. Is there anything else?"
He looked at Lorna one more time, then went to eye contact with Amaya.
"That will be all. If you or her ever need anything, you know how to contact me. I'll be there."
"Okay." She did not falter in her gaze.
The door opened without either of them touching it. He walked out, removing his regal aura and slipping on a hat. He once walked into a police office on full alert for mutants in this outfit.
The door shut behind him.
Easier to use his powers than bottle them up.
A/N-
The prayer I put in is the Hashkiveinu, a Jewish prayer for protection. I'm not quite sure if it is the correct one for the situation, but I'm going off by my gut here.
I was rereading it, and I remembered I'm Jewish and therefore should be able to do something better than a vague "Baruch atah Adonai, Elohainu melech haolam," which is the standard for almost all blessings.From my limited understanding, the Lehnsherr (or whatever his real last name is) family was pretty religious by our standards. I imagine Erik—a man who has never completed the ceremony aspect of becoming a Bar Mitzvah and probably not been to synagogue in decades—would remember hearing it before going to bed nearly every night better than he would remember anything his infant self heard.