Erik would not say that he ever had the best skills when it came to forging friendships. He could make alliances, could foster peace between Genosha and her allies, but true friendships were another matter. Ruth was his sister. Magda had been the one to initiate their relationship. Ruth facilitated his friendship with Azazel. He enjoyed Logan's company, but he didn't know if either of them would say they were friends. Other than that, there were people in Erik's life who he saw as trusted acquaintances or loyal advisors, but he would not say that he counted them as friends. Charles was proving to be an exception.

With Erik patiently awaiting his knights' returns from their respective missions, he stayed at the inn for the better part of his days now. Logan frequently left for work, so it was just Erik, Charles, and the children in the inn during the day. After their truce of sorts, Charles had taken to seeking out Erik's company. They would talk, debate really, their taste in books, philosophy, poetry, religion, politics, and just about anything they could think of. They agreed more than they disagreed, but when they did disagree, the resulting discourse was invigorating. As an alpha prince, there weren't many people who directly challenged Erik so boldly. However, to Charles, he was just a blacksmith and his status as an alpha did not seem to cow him. Erik enjoyed the lack of formality. They usually argued to a stalemate or until Anya saw fit to mediate (or take sides to stir them up again since she thought it was great entertainment to watch their spars).

Despite any assumptions he could've made about Charles' nature considering the disgrace he arrived in, it was clear that Charles was a studious person, learned, and naturally curious. He took to exploring the surroundings of Logan's inn, often dragging the children and Erik along. They had discovered a river and a lake within the woods along with several meadows and clearings playing host to wildlife. Charles always appeared suitably awed by the natural majesty of Genosha. Flowers any other Genoshan would consider weeds, trees deemed far from impressive, and animals otherwise thought to be pests were like gateways to a world of bountiful knowledge for the younger man. Charles could spend an inordinate amount of time observing and cataloging in his personal journal before staying up entirely too late reading tomes about Genosha's history, geography, fauna, and flora. In the short time Charles had been at the inn, Erik thought the omega already consumed about half of the information he had to learn over the span of years as the prince.

He was sure that Charles was an academic or a noble of some sort. Other than his elevated speech pattern, his opinions and ideas spoke to a deeper understanding of diplomacy despite his proclamation that he was not overly fond of politics. Erik found that he agreed with many of Charles' stances in those regards. He had progressive thoughts about the structure of society, a belief in imbuing as much equitability as possible across class and status distinctions, which Erik agreed with wholeheartedly. In many ways, he was a man after Erik's own heart. If he ever married again, not that there was a need, he would want the man or woman to be like Charles.

Charles was a great help with the children too. Erik would be the first to admit that his children were handfuls. He had an army of governesses to help him back at Krakoa, but now he was on his own dealing with Wanda's fragile state after all she'd seen in the battle, Anya's tenacity and bids for independence and Pietro's propensity for mischief. Even with the metal accessories they always wore, they were hard to keep track of sometimes. Wanda chose to hide all over the inn, Anya tried to break away to explore on her own, and Pietro was always looking for trouble, but they all liked Charles so they would listen to him (a small miracle) and David proved an ever-present (if sometimes unwilling) distraction.

Charles made up games that occupied the three youngest children's times, helped them learn to read and taught them simple things about animals and arithmetic. If Erik tried to educate them, he was certain he would've gotten maybe five minutes of their time before they deemed him unworthy of their attention, but Charles was a patient teacher. He even channeled Pietro's inclination towards disarray and chaos into something constructive by teaching him about science and doing experiments with him.

Charles played the old piano stashed in the common room, sometimes teaching Anya chords, or tapping out jaunty tunes for Wanda, Pietro, and David's benefit. Sometimes when Erik went to check on Wanda, Charles was already with her telling her stories to help her sleep and reassuring her of her safety. He and Anya remained close. She always managed to drop a few words about Charles in any conversation she and Erik had lately. He wasn't sure to what end but was convinced his stubborn daughter had an agenda. Erik's children were content despite the horrors they'd been through, so he could hope for nothing more, whether Charles was the reason or not.

As for them, Charles and Erik took to quiet moments over tea and chess. Charles was a formidable opponent. He claimed he was out of practice, but he improved the more they played. He was not an aggressive player, but he was smart. There wasn't a lot of room for hidden agendas in chess, it was a matter of being able to anticipate every possible move your opponent could make. Charles always seemed to be intuned with what Erik was going to do, even if he couldn't always defend against his strategy. He found these long sessions with Charles to be surprisingly rewarding and a test of his endurance.

It was disconcertingly attractive watching Charles' mind work. The way he bit his red lips. The crease that formed on his brow. The way he ran his fingers absentmindedly against his temple in a gesture he swore helped him concentrate, not to use his telepathy to cheat. Silhouetted by the light of the fire in the common room, he cut an enticing figure. Erik had to exhibit near-boundless restraint. He was almost certain Charles was attracted to him as well. There was something in the way he looked at him sometimes. However, they had done nothing more than trade occasionally flirty banter.

Erik constantly reminded himself that Charles had no clue who he really was. He didn't even know his real name. Vice versa, Erik didn't know much about Charles, not his past anyway. He was confident he could write sonnets to the little things he knew: how Charles liked his tea, the way he blushed when he said something too familiar, the smile that alighted his lips when he and Anya were deep in spirited discussions, the parental protectiveness he displayed when Wanda woke from a nightmare or Pietro edged too close to the water during their excursions, the pride and happiness he exuded when David used his powers in a new way, his ineptitude to make food even halfway edible, his affinity for the colors yellow and blue, his love of romance novels but aversion to amorous ballads and saccharine verses, the way his laughter always seemed like it was startled out of him, the way his eyes lit up in both pleasure and exasperation when Erik bested him at chess or there was an argument that Erik made that he had no rebuttal for, and…

Well, Erik knew a lot about Charles, but he still didn't know vital information about where he came from, what he was running from, and where he was planning to go. He had overheard some snatches of conversation between Charles and Logan. He knew Charles had fled from mortal danger, but that was expected information. Either way, Erik had never asked for clarification. It was unfair of him to press when he had his own secrets. So, they'd fallen into this comfortable, easy friendship, ignoring their biological instincts and mutual attractions to instead bask in the other's company for what it was.

Erik stood leaning against a wall leading to the common area. Charles was sat in the room on the floor with the children. He was reading a book to them, well, he was reading to Anya since David was asleep across his lap while Pietro and Wanda had dozed off on the various pillows and blankets decorating the floor. Charles had decided to move all the children to the common area in a final attempt to soothe Wanda's nightly fears and convince her of their safety. Erik saw no reason to stop him. Charles was reading Jane Eyre. Erik might've stopped him if he didn't know Anya had already read this book and others with much more mature content given her literary appetite.

"While he spoke my very conscience and reason turned traitors against me and charged me with crime in resisting him. They spoke almost as loud as feeling and that clamoured wildly. "Oh comply!", it said. "Think of his misery, think of his danger— look at his state when left alone, remember his headlong nature, consider the recklessness following on despair, do your duty as an omega— soothe him, save him, love him, tell him you love him and will be his. Who in the world cares for you? Or who will be injured by what you do?" Charles read.

"This next part is probably my favorite in the entire novel," he prefaced before continuing,

"I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself. I will keep the law given by God, sanctioned by man. You are a bonded alpha, married to your mate, and I shall not intrude upon this sacred thing. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad— as I am now. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation, they are for such moments as this, when body and soul, rise in mutiny against their rigour, stringent are they, inviolate they shall be. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth? They have a worth— so I have always believed, and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane— quite insane, with my veins running fire and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs. It is the hot madness they say afflicts omegas, that and that alone. Preconceived opinions, forgone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by. There I plant my foot."

Erik chuckled lightly as Charles read the lines theatrically and with gusto, smiling with satisfaction to himself as he did so.

"Wonderful notion, isn't it? I suppose it appeals to me so much because I am an omega and not many novels would ever have an omega speak so bluntly to an alpha."

"But I never liked that Jane and Mr. Rochester ended up together, Charles. Why should they have?"

"It doesn't follow on the surface, does it? The heart can be quite unpredictable, it doesn't always want what is most convenient or easy. Jane did wait to pursue Rochester until she was sure she wasn't influenced by her own poverty, loneliness, vulnerability, or passion in the moment. The distance and time let her know it was real. Love isn't always flawless, it doesn't have to be. I think the lesson here is more about the balance of power in a relationship, being equal with your partner regardless of distinction, having the respect of your mate, and not compromising yourself to assuage the needs of someone else. Love does require compromise, but there is a line between sacrificing bits of yourself for someone you love and losing yourself altogether. In the end, Jane got what she wanted because she remained true to herself but also opened her mind to learning and growing as a person. Rochester remained a flawed individual, but Jane saw him for who he truly was. Yes, he had his pride and his anger. He was a solitary man, but he managed to allow her past his walls. He told severe lies that he saw as necessary as he tried to find a bit of happiness for himself in the world. He was not perfect, but he was suited to her, so they worked through their differences. Sometimes it is possible, sometimes it is not, but the novel does not set unrealistic expectations of our omega protagonist. For this reason, I have always gravitated towards Miss Brontë's work ever since its publication. I couldn't help but fancy myself Jane in a few rather elaborate fantasies, forever seeking my Rochester, the one who would accept that as an omega, I need not fit into the roles set for me by society. Though, of course, I'd rather spare myself the life-altering secret."

Erik felt a pang in his chest. He wasn't entirely sure why.

"He's good at that, huh?"

Erik startled and turned to see Logan standing there looking at him with amusement.

"Did I scare you?" he asked, but he didn't look apologetic.

Erik rolled his eyes at him and turned back to Charles and Anya, who were still discussing Jane and Mr. Rochester's relationship.

"You're not very subtle, you know."

Erik glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. Logan nodded towards Charles.

"What about him?"

Logan leveled him with an unamused look.

"I'm not an idiot, bub. I see the way you're looking at him."

"And how is that?"

"Like you're going to jump him without a moment's notice."

Erik rolled his eyes once more in response.

"I do have more self-restraint than that."

"Be sure you do. Kid's been through enough. He's my godson, I mean to protect him. I don't want him getting caught up in all of this with Shaw. I'm soon to leave to see about getting you some more help for this fight. I don't want to come back and have to kill you for messing with him. That'll defeat the whole point of scrounging up help for you in the first place."

Erik ignored the blatantly treasonous threat.

"Charles is a friend, Logan. Just a friend. We play chess, talk about politics, my children like him, his son likes me, and we like each other. That's all it is."

Logan held his gaze for a long moment.

"We'll see."

The gruff man walked off. Erik watched him go, unsure of the portentous feeling the words left him with. He shook it off. Logan was just being overprotective. Erik would be the same if it were himself and his children, or Ruth for that matter. A sudden wave of turmoil swept through him before he could hold it back. He had been trying to hide from these emotions. Charles made it easy to do so, but when they came again they could be so overpowering. It was almost as if he could taste the grief on his tongue, could smell it. It reeked of ozone, leather, pipe smoke and tar. Shaw's scent.

"Max?"

He looked up to see Charles staring up at him questioningly. Anya was giving him an assessing look as well. She came to some conclusion he was not privy to as she looked down and away with pursed lips and a dimmer light in her eyes.

"You're projecting," Charles explained to Erik's questioning look, a soothing hand running down David's back as the sleeping boy fussed in agitation.

Erik shut his eyes and willed the emotions away, knowing that they were not pleasant for the two telepaths to endure.

"I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone."

"I don't mean to run you out. You can join us. We'd prefer it actually, right Anya?"

Erik somehow doubted that, but Anya wordlessly moved over to make space for him between herself and Charles. He hesitated but walked over and sat beside the omega, their thighs pressing against one another's in the process.

"Please, continue regaling us with the stylings of Miss Brontë."

Charles gave him a sweet smile before diving back into the passages. Erik studiously ignored the tugging it inspired in his chest.