Warnings: depictions of violence, death, animal death/injury in the fourth section of the chapter. Also, I suck at battle scenes so apologies in advance.
Erik stepped outside of Logan's inn and took a deep breath of air, his body still keyed up and his head foggy from his exchange with Charles. He didn't know where he got the temerity to ask Charles to join him in Krakoa, where he gathered the strength. Maybe it was the fact that for these past three days, he was more and more coming to realize that they were marching closer and closer to an ending of one kind or another. If he left things as they were, he'd never see Charles again.
He tried to be okay with that initially. He held his head high as he marched into the village to meet with Emma, Azazel, Lord Helmut and the members of Alpha Flight, the team of mercenaries Logan had brought back with him. He was direct and perfunctory about setting battle strategies, fielding Emma's curiosity, Lord Helmut's blatant flirting, and the awkward period of getting acquainted with Alpha Flight.
Erik focused firmly on getting himself ready for what was to come. Shaw would know he was coming, killing any element of surprise. They couldn't bring the fight to the city. Erik was not willing to risk the lives of innocents, so he had already sent ahead to Shaw to meet him on the battlefield. There was a large clearing a few miles from the city that would act as their battleground. It was flat terrain so they would not be surprised by any hidden forces behind hills. That also gave less cover against cannon fire, but cannonballs had metal components, so he could do something about them. Regardless, they would do their best to destroy the cannons first.
Azazel had seemed a little thrown by his demeanor and Emma kept giving him knowing looks, but he had ignored it in favor of professionalism. Lord Helmut had tried to get close to him, but he kept him at arm's length, the veiled consideration for marriage never far from his mind. The lord had seemed disappointed but didn't push.
There were only so many times he could go over the same plan repeatedly. There was nothing else to do but wait until it was time to leave. When he got on his horse, he would be riding towards Lord Shaw to finally end this nightmare he had been stuck in ever since his father announced his intent to marry Ruth off to Shinobi. He would also be leaving behind the dream of love he had found with Charles. Charles would stay at the inn with David for a while and then he would go off, exploring Genosha to find work. Maybe he would become a teacher or open that school his father had been trying to create. Maybe he would marry some alpha or beta who caught his eye and treated him like he deserved, with honesty and integrity. The idea of Charles with someone else did not sit right in his stomach, not after what they had shared. He couldn't imagine it any more than he could imagine marrying Lord Helmut, no matter how much the omega batted his eyes at him suggestively.
Lord Helmut was not awful in truth. He was young and fair with a sharp jawline and wavy brunette hair. His scent was appealing. Despite the coy flirtation he immediately employed upon meeting Erik, he had a mind for battle, making suggestions for the calvary he was leading that made more sense given their terrain. His knowledge said much about his strength and prowess. Being an omega entrusted to command such a large army was a rare enough occurrence. He was a worthy political match, but he wasn't Charles. Erik tried to avoid conversation not related to battle, but Lord Helmut managed to sneak a few minutes in. He learned he had a great affinity for the martial arts, praising the legislation that gave omegas the right to fight in combat. He enjoyed reading, hunting, horseback riding and playing the flute. Erik couldn't care less. Before he met Charles, he might have given Helmut honest consideration, but where Charles felt like being bathed in the brightest and fullest sunbeams, Helmut felt like a single pale ray struggling unsuccessfully against storm clouds. It was through no fault of his own. He could not help that he was not who Erik wanted and Erik could not help that that truth rooted itself in his chest the more Lord Helmut tried to seek him out.
He could lie to himself all he wished, tell himself Charles would be better off without him, that in a few years this would all feel like a distant memory, that he would be able to banish thoughts of Charles' scent, his smile, his kiss, his mind, his love, but the lie only stretched so far. Erik was not a man prone to forgetting and moving on. He did not let things go, he dwelled on his losses, he let wounds fester, and Charles would be an incredibly unique one indeed. Not a blow dealt to him by his enemies or cruel fate, but one he had inflicted on himself. He would not be able to go back to court life and forget Charles Xavier ever existed. He would always wonder if Charles was still on the island, if they could pass one another by happenstance on the street and rekindle what they lost, if Charles and David were safe and warm and fed, if the Markos managed to find them and drag them back to Westchester, if love would remain ever elusive to a man who felt as profoundly as Charles.
So, on the third and last day, he approached Charles' bedroom, armed with an apology and not much else. He was unsure what else he could say, not sure of the direction the conflicting storms in his heart and in his head was leading him. When he entered, Charles sat with his back to him, rifling through his bags. He turned slightly to pick something up and Erik was treated to the vision of his side profile bathed in the light pouring through the window. It made Charles' brunette hair appear russet, his blue eyes shine brighter, and his skin glow. Erik stood there, trying to commit this image to memory, but his mind was not sharp enough to capture the precise redness of Charles' lips, the proper curve of his nose, or the wit hidden behind his intelligent eyes. Besides which, any memory would pale in comparison to reality. He wanted him. HaShem keep and preserve him, but he didn't want to leave him behind. Charles might have put their relationship down to madness, but Erik knew the truth. He didn't have time just then to tell Charles everything and he suspected Charles wasn't ready for him to lay himself bare before him again. Still, just a hint of hope, not even a promise, a whisper of it, it was enough to tide Erik over for now, assure him that he could see Charles after the battle if he played this right.
His lips tingled with the residual contact of Charles' skin. He brushed his thumb across his mouth as he walked down the steps and made his way towards his saddled horse. He ran his hands through the mare's hair and over her nose before casting around for Logan. He was not in sight, but Erik caught a flash of red hair peeking out from behind the stables. He leaned over and was able to catch Anya's eye. He stepped away from the horse to begin walking towards the stable, stopping halfway there. He wanted to talk to her, but he also wanted this to be her decision. He gave her an inviting smile and she eventually left her perch, stopping about a foot away from him.
"You're leaving now?" she asked.
"As soon as Logan is ready," he confirmed.
Anya bit her lip, looking anywhere but at him.
"Good luck," she said finally, her tone betraying how much more she wished to say.
Erik watched her for a moment.
"Can I tell you something?"
Anya gave him a curious look.
"When I was younger, about your age, my father went off to fight for the first time. I was terrified. I was worried about what would happen if he didn't come back or if he was hurt. My mother told me not to fret, but it did no good. I locked myself in my room the day he was to leave and refused to see him off. He came to see me instead. He explained why he was leaving, why it was important that he, as king, fight for his people. He had a duty to fulfill to preserve the nation—all very good reasons. I didn't care about any of it, I just wanted him to stay. Do you know what he told me?"
Anya shook her head in reply.
"He told me that every second of every minute of every hour of every day, I was in his head and in his heart. He told me I was the first person he thought of when he woke up and the last when he went to sleep. All he cared for was my safety and if it meant putting himself on the line for me, he would, because that's what fathers do. It comforted me, but I couldn't truly fathom what he meant, not until I had you."
Erik closed the distance and got down on his knees in front of his daughter.
"When I first saw you, it was like the universe opened up. I never knew I could love someone so purely and instantly until I saw your face. I used to sit by your crib when you were a baby and watch you breathing. I'd put my fingers on your chest and count the beats of your heart and be amazed that I could love something and be so frightened of it at the same time. The idea of losing you is unthinkable. I will do anything to make sure you don't leave this earth before me, even if it means going to battle. You and the twins are everything to me."
"I heard all the things you said to Lord Shinobi. You said there was nothing in the world that would stop you from killing him. Even if it meant you would die too, you'd do it happily to take him with you," Anya answered tearfully.
Erik shook his head, disappointed in himself for letting it get that far, for letting Anya see it. He should've known she was close by, should've felt her bracelet, but he was too far gone.
"That day, that duel, I forgot myself. I lost sight of the thing that matters above all else: my family. I'm so sorry about that. I'm sorry that I hurt you. I'm sorry that you ever doubted my love for you and your siblings. You are the reason I fight, the most important reason. I don't want you to question that. I will come back from this battle. I'll come back for you, for Wanda and Pietro, for Charles and David. I swear it."
The tears fell down Anya's eyes as she flung herself into his arms. Erik held her back tightly. He probably shouldn't make promises, things were so fragile, but that was all the more reason for him to fight with everything he had.
"I love you."
"I love you too, Daddy."
He pulled back from the hug and wiped her face clean of tears before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He was struck by an idea then. He pulled his wedding ring off his right hand, where he had moved it after Magda's death, and placed it in Anya's palm. He closed her fist around it and pressed a kiss to the folded digits.
"I have worn that ring ever since your mother placed it on my hand when we married eight years ago. Keep it safe for me until I come back."
Anya nodded in reply, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.
"I'll see you soon," she said, more confidence in her voice but a lingering question still.
"You will. I don't want you to worry. Make sure you help Charles with the twins and David. Don't let him stay in his books for too long. You know how he is."
"I'll look out for everyone," she answered with determination.
Erik smiled at the tone of her voice.
"I leave them in your capable hands then."
"I don't like being patronized," she shot back with a glare.
"Far be it from me. Let's have a smile."
Anya's lips stretched into a grin and Erik answered with his own.
"There. This is the image I will take with me."
Anya smiled wider before her gaze switched behind him. He glanced over his shoulder as Logan came trotting up on his horse.
"We ready?"
Erik nodded in reply. He gave Anya one last squeeze and then got on his horse, riding out beside Logan.
He glanced back at the inn which had been his prison, his refuge, and ultimately his haven these past few weeks. He felt a part of him might miss this place even though he was happy to return home. This inn had led him to Charles. It may always have a special place in his heart.
He took a deep breath and looked forward, refocusing himself on the task at hand. There was no time for melancholy, he had to be battle-ready, calm, level-headed. He had people waiting for him. He would not let them down.
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A strange feeling filled Erik as he rode towards Krakoa.
This was hardly the first time he had ridden into battle. It wasn't even the first time he had had to reclaim an entire city. He had gotten his first kills defending Lensberg as the city had no natural borders and marauders made a habit of invading it and the surrounding areas. Still, there was an odd sense of anticipation thrumming through his veins. It wasn't the anxiety and eagerness that he usually felt proceeding a battle, it wasn't even the thirst to get the kill he had been craving, it was more of a desperate need to get this over with as soon as he could. There was so much to be done. He had to assess the state of the capital after being in Shaw's hands for so long, the coffers would have to be checked, the city's defenses rebuilt and the castle renovated. First, there would have to be funeral rites for his father and he would have to have a shiva house prepared for himself and the children when they returned so they could mourn. There would also be remembrances for those others killed by Shaw sacking the city. Then he would have to turn his attention to Charles.
However, the battle had to come first. Erik glanced behind him where marched his forces, footmen and mounted knights numbering six hundred, a third of which were Sokovian. Sean was about a half a day's ride behind him with 50 fighters from Lensberg and Heather was only a quarter of a day's ride behind him with another 50 from Alkali City. At the same time, Elizabeth had already set up camp not far from the battlefield with her 100 Briton soldiers and Warren's 200 Silverthorne soldiers. That gave him 250 more men than Shaw had. Erik wanted to use his numbers effectively. There was no point in wasting lives by throwing them at Shaw's forces to needlessly overwhelm them, nor was there a point in lining up his soldiers to shoot at each other and kill one another unnecessarily. Shaw may even have Krakoan soldiers fighting for him, voluntarily or not. They were also Erik's people and he wanted casualties to be as minimal as possible.
He was slightly puzzled at his own sentiments. A few months ago, he would have approached this battle with much more heat. He would have taken a scorched earth approach, killing any soldier between himself and Shaw as a traitor. That didn't serve him in the long run. He had made promises and assurances to the living. He couldn't break those for vows already broken to the dead. They had a plan, it was just a matter of executing it. Still, he had to keep to tradition, so he would meet Shaw to try to make a final negotiation before the battle. He would rather engage Shaw head-on and get it over with, but he would not have his victory contested.
"You look troubled, my friend," Azazel said, moving his horse to trot a step behind him.
"Well, these are troubling times," Erik replied, a shade of sarcasm to his voice.
"Indeed," Azazel conceded.
"Shaw might be powerful, but he isn't as good of a strategist as you, can't inspire loyalty as you do. We have the people's confidence. We need only show them it is not misplaced."
Erik nodded his head in reply.
"But that isn't what has been bothering you these past few days, is it?"
Erik cast a questioning glance back at Azazel. He nodded his head towards the Sokovian lord behind them, riding close to his men.
"I've spent my time in Sokovia vetting him as much as trying to convince Lord Heinrich to cooperate."
"I hardly asked you to."
"No, you didn't, but as I was there, it seemed prudent."
"And?"
"He is not hard on the eyes," Azazel commented.
"No, I suppose not."
"He would bring a lot to the marriage: a sizable dowry, a larger army than any other city outside of the capital, several disputed lands."
"He would."
"He doesn't mind the children. He would be happy to play stepfather to them. All in all, he is the kind of match your council would salivate over. Yet, I have the distinct feeling you couldn't be less interested, and it also strikes me that it may have little to do with your aversion to a political marriage."
Erik glanced at the red-skinned man out of the corner of his eye.
"Have you been talking to Emma?"
"Would she tell me something that would confirm my suspicions?"
Erik restrained an eyeroll and a groan. The lady knight had been almost obnoxiously quiet, but she had taken to giving Erik these increasingly smug looks. He hadn't felt her in his head sniffing around, but he was almost certain she knew what happened between him and Charles.
"I'll take your silence as a yes."
"It's complicated," Erik answered around a sigh.
Azazel nodded silently before studying Erik carefully.
"Who are they?"
Erik cast a look around to see if anyone was listening. They were a few feet ahead of the rest of the party.
"His name is Charles. He is the Westchesterian lodger at Logan's inn I was telling you about, the one Anya befriended."
"The one who arrived in disgrace?"
"He is not dishonorable in the least. He has been most ill-treated by those he called family and fled for his life. He is brilliant in truth: intelligent, understanding, empathetic. His views match mine where it counts and for the points on which we disagree, he argues his side well. He is far above me in all the ways I care about, but below me as far as society sees it."
"Is it truly so?"
"He is divorced and has a child. I feel he could win over the people. The ideas he has, he would gain their trust and respect, their love I expect. He is not Jewish, but he wouldn't be the first Protestant mate of a Genoshan ruler and he is always eager to learn new things, including about our religion. He also wouldn't be the first prince consort to be foreign-born, but it would be harder for him to gain the respect of the court."
"It was hard for Magda to gain their respect as well. It was hard for your mother. It was hard for your grandfather. It is hard for any ruling sovereign's mate. If they are not viewed as the enemy, they are seen as an inroad to befriend the crown or undermine it. Magda thought you were worth the hassle, does this Charles think the same?"
"I don't know. As I said, it is complicated. We left off in a strange place. There is still much to decide and talk about. I hardly know how I feel about him on most days."
"You do know. I know and I haven't even seen you with him, so you must know as well."
"How could you know?"
"It's the look on your face. You had a similar look when it was you and Magda struggling to overcome expectations and remain together. If I remember correctly, it seemed an impossibility back then, but now you have Anya and the twins as proof that you were willing to defy the odds. So why not now as well?"
"I had much less responsibility then."
"And less power too, but you managed to defy the most powerful man in the land. Granted, he was your father, but that never stopped him from doing as he will with you. I watched you fight for her, I watched you hurt for and with her, and I knew your love was true, otherwise the idea of losing her wouldn't have upset you so much. I can see that same fear in your eyes now. On the one hand, I'm glad that you have found love again. Without it, I fear your heart gets too hard. You put too much armor around yourself. On the other, I know you'll face an uphill battle with this one. However, I have confidence in you. No one can say that you have not always done what is best for Genosha, Erik. I trust you to make the right decision for yourself and the country."
"Thank you, my friend. Your words help ease my troubled mind," Erik nodded back gratefully.
"Good, because you can't take that trouble with you on the battlefield. Shaw will sniff it out and use it against you."
"He will," Erik agreed, pushing Charles aside for now. It would be there when he got back.
"What do you expect Shaw will do?" Azazel asked.
"I expect he'll put on a show of trying for reconciliation at our meeting, tell the realm I blew up in some hot-headed action to continue perpetuating his propaganda about me. It matters little. He'll be dead soon. What's left is to clean up the mess he left behind."
Azazel nodded in return.
"We'll finish this, once and for all, for Genosha, for King Jakob, for Ruth."
"For Ruth."
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Although it was spring, the clearing was overcast as Erik sat on his horse awaiting Shaw's host to meet them for last peace negotiations. He worried if it would rain or not, it would make the terrain muddy, make fighting more difficult but there was little he could do to stop that. His horse nattered a bit, throwing her head back in agitation, probably from the tense atmosphere as he, Azazel, Emma, Lord Helmut, and the commanders of the other armies waited. He patted her neck soothingly, stretching his powers to be sure nothing was pulled too tightly that was causing her discomfort. He was distracted by an ominously familiar, unique metallic signature. Shaw's helmet. He glanced up as the party made their way into the clearing.
Shaw was leading five men, three of them from the Hellfire estate along with Lord Stryker and Lord Wyngarde of Genosha's council of twelve. Traitors.
"Those are your councilmen, aren't they?" Lord Helmut asked needlessly.
"I'll deal with them later," Erik replied as Shaw stopped his horse.
Their eyes met across the chasm between them. Erik remembered Shaw's face when the prince collected Ruth's body: the fake sympathy, the false innocence and concern, the charade of grief for his daughter-in-law. He had wanted to kill him then and there, but his hatred for Shinobi had been greater, so he was the target. He should've cut them both out root and stem. A self-satisfied smirk alighted Shaw's face as if he could read Erik's thoughts.
"My dear prince, it's been much too long. The capital has missed you terribly. We were all so very worried for your safety. After all, I had hoped this transition of power would be as peaceful and bloodless as possible."
Erik glared wordlessly at the lord. Shaw turned his gaze to Lord Helmut.
"Thank you for returning the former prince. Now, all that you and your illustrious companions must do is get off your horses, surrender your armies and kneel before me. Proclaim me as the true and rightful king of Genosha."
Erik glanced out of the corner of his eye. To his credit, Lord Helmut remained stone-faced and unmoved by the pretender king's orders.
"Come now, Lord Lehnsherr, it is the best offer you could hope to receive. I will pardon you all for treason against the crown. I will even proclaim that Lady Anya is to be my heir upon my death. She will, of course, be brought back to the capital to be raised in the manner I see fit. It is only fair. A child for a child."
"Your son was not worth the dirt beneath my daughter's shoe, much less my sister's hand in marriage. You allowed your spawn to beat my sister until she died."
"This baseless accusation you have seen fit to perpetuate will only show the world how paranoid you truly are. I have said it before, I will say it again. It is not my fault, nor my son's, that your sister's lover killed her."
Erik bared his teeth in anger at the man's false allegation. He wanted to jump off his horse and challenge Shaw outright. The need flared in his chest. He could feel his alpha spirit batting against his ribcage, the call to excise his grievance against his enemy nearly choking him, like bile in his throat. The image of Anya smiling crossed his mind suddenly, of Pietro and Wanda running hand in hand through the high meadows near Logan's inn, of David gathering blueberries in his little hands and giggling when the globes tumbled to the forest floor, of Charles bathed in firelight staring at Erik with pleased amusement during one of their chess games. He could not give in to his anger. He made promises that he had to keep. It took a moment of deep breathing, but eventually he was able to respond.
"You know the truth just as well as I. Anyone who knew Ruth knows that your claim of some clandestine affair was the most ludicrous fiction you could have invented to cover up your son's crime. You can no more feign ignorance to what happened in your home than any other man with eyes in his head. If you can, then you are a fool and not fit for the throne, a throne which you stole, exacting the cost of my father's life and countless other Krakoan citizens."
"And you care? Where have you been? Certainly not with your citizens who you claim to love so much. You tucked tail, turned your back, and ran. What sort of an alpha are you, boy?" Lord Stryker said.
Erik had never liked him. He had a strange fascination with the Gifted and after some unsavory business regarding his son, Erik wanted to be rid of him, but his father dallied. He would not miss the man, nor Lord Wyngarde. There were a few other council members he would be happy to dispatch, but these two would do for now and serve as examples.
"I suppose you'll find out the kind of alpha I am tomorrow, won't you? There is only one sentence for treason, Lord Stryker. I suggest you pray to whichever higher power will have you."
Shaw chuckled unpleasantly then.
"Honestly, what sense is there in battle? You have the men and the horses, but you don't have the city. The council doubts you, your people doubt you, the very country doubts your legitimacy and fitness to rule. Get off your horse and kneel. Save us all the trouble of sending a few hundred poor souls to slaughter. I am a man of mercy."
Erik sneered at the very notion.
"Now, if you want to salvage a chance for your bloodline to survive—"
"You're going to die tomorrow, Lord Shaw. If you wish to follow him into the arms of death, Lords Stryker and Wyngarde, be my guest. Genosha has no room for opportunistic traitors anyway. I suggest you all sleep soundly and deeply tonight. It will be the last time you have the chance," Erik announced before turning his horse and kicking its side to set it off.
"In the morning then, my lord!" Shaw called out behind him.
Erik took a deep fortifying breath.
Come sunrise, this would end.
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On the outskirts of the capital city of Krakoa, the Lehnsherr and Shaw armies sat across the battlefield from one another. Erik rode his horse through the ranks, looking over his forces: his mounted soldiers, his footmen, his artillerymen, those Gifted with the ability of flight who hovered above it all. Across the battlefield, Erik could only assume Shaw's ranks were in a similar formation. A thick fog had rolled over the grounds, not at all seasonable for spring. He could believe it was not natural.
"Can't see a damned thing through this fog," Lord Helmut commented by his side.
Erik scanned the battleground for caltrops or any other devices meant to hinder a cavalry charge but found nothing. The fog in and of itself would hinder both armies and lead to more deaths, but there was nothing for it.
Just as he thought that a pathway opened and revealed Shaw, Lord Wyngarde, and… his father. He looked awful, even from this distance. He was pale and gaunt and could barely stand on his own. Shaw clutched on to his right arm in a tight grip, causing his father to squirm in pain. Erik gripped his horse's reins, almost riding out into the field unprotected when Emma's voice sounded in his head.
"Whatever you're seeing, it isn't real, my prince. It's Lord Wyngarde, his illusions."
Erik blinked and his father was gone. He shook his head, glancing to the side as several dozen soldiers began riding into the thick fog. Lord Helmut made to ride out, but Erik gripped his horse's metal armor, stopping him in his tracks.
"Emma, Elizabeth, place a net as large as you can to protect from psionic attacks."
He could feel the combined touch of their unique telepathic abilities in his head. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but the agitated soldiers began to calm down.
"None of your tricks, Shaw, challenge us like a true alpha, not some charlatan!" Erik shouted across the space.
Shaw smirked and the fog closed in, obscuring him once more.
For a long while, the field was quiet, the only sound the gunfire and shouts from within the fog from the men who had ridden ahead, drawn out by Wyngarde's illusions before that sound died down.
"Emma, what are they planning?"
"They can't shoot ahead. Despite their little ploy with this fog, they can't see any more than we can. They're going to charge," Emma advised after a moment.
"Then we'll meet them."
He gave the signal and orders began ringing out.
"Prepare to charge! Prepare to charge!"
"Calvary, prepare!"
Erik took a deep breath. He could hear the thundering hooves of hundreds of horses making their way towards them through the fog, could make out the silhouettes. He glanced at Azazel a few men down and the two shared a nod.
"Calvary, charge!"
He watched the first wave ride ahead of him, Azazel leading them into the unknown terrain. He heard clashing, horses neighing in distress, guns firing, blades crossing, men shouting, but the fog obscured the view. All he could feel with his powers were indiscriminate swords, shields, armor, and guns.
"How long are we to hold back, my prince?" Bobby asked, anxious to join the fray.
Erik surveyed the scene once more before nodding at Bobby.
"Second, prepare to advance!"
"Good luck, Your Highness. Fight well," Lord Helmut said beside him, securing his helm.
Erik nodded before giving the order.
"Advance!"
His horse lurched forward beneath him, kicking up dirt and mud as they galloped forward. He held his sword in one hand, the metal singing to him along with that of the arrow strapped to his thigh and the armor stretched across his muscles. He preferred this to a gun. These weapons felt more like extensions of his powers and he could control them better.
It was difficult to see anything, but the clashing of his forces into the fray was nearly deafening. Horses ran headlong into each other, sending their riders flying in both directions, arms flailing, weapons thrown aloft. Mud and grass sailed through the air from the collisions, painting their armor brown instantly. Soldiers on both sides were dying in the frenzy.
Erik gathered himself quickly, ducking flying swords and bodies while deflecting stray musket balls and rifle bearings. A flailing horse came careening towards him. He used his powers to push it off his path, sending the horse tumbling into several of Shaw's men, crushing them beneath the weight. A dagger sailed its way through the melee towards him. Erik stopped it in its tracks and sent it back to the soldier who had thrown it, before turning to engage with several footmen attempting to unhorse him. He sent two flying across the field and cut down the third without mercy. A fourth held up his rifle, intent on shooting Erik. He sent the round flying backward through the barrel, darting out of the butt of the gun into the man's head.
Even as he fought, striking with his sword, his arrow, and his Gift, he tried to keep a constant awareness of Shaw's helmet to always know where he was on the battlefield. The line of sight was marginally better within the fog. He had no clue where Azazel or Logan or his commanders were, but he needed to take some semblance of control. He gripped the reins of his horse, retreating from the densest of the fighting so he could survey the battle and act accordingly. Riding towards the rear, he screamed at each arriving line of reinforcements, now mostly infantry from Alkali City along with Alpha Flight. He waved them forward, shouting orders and pointing towards what weaknesses and gaps he could make out.
Just as he ordered Warren to take his airborne fighters to defend their weakened left flank, he found himself in danger. He jerked in surprise as the ground beneath his horse's back legs suddenly began to shift, pulling them down. His horse neighed in fright, trying to fight the ground which sucked them in. Erik cast around frantically, catching sight of a woman holding out her hand towards them. She was too far away from his sword. He reached out to his metal arrow, lifting it off his thigh to hover midair before sending it straight towards her. It went through her chest with ease, killing her instantly. He turned his attention towards his horse, intent on pulling her out of the muck when she suddenly let out a pained cry before going limp and falling over. Erik managed to narrowly avoid being crushed by her dead weight. He looked down to see she had been shot in the eye and cursed, standing up so he was not trampled in the chaos.
He grabbed a shield off the ground, felt for his arrow and tightened his grip on his sword. He could feel Shaw was close, he just needed to find him. He ran forward, dodging several horses galloping past him. A cavalryman charged towards him on horseback. He merely flicked his fingers, sending the man flying across the battlefield while the horse continued. He rushed forward and sliced the neck of a man in Hellfire livery before cutting another open across the torso.
Loud bangs began to fill the battlefield. Cannons. Shaw, the madman. He was going to kill his own men shooting into the fog like this. Erik took a deep breath and held his hand towards the sky, blindly stopping the incoming metal bombs. He grunted from the effort but held firm. He could feel the flying artillery stop, hovering in place before he sent them back across the battlefield towards Shaw's machinery and artillerymen.
His focus was on the heavy machinery, so he was surprised when a musket ball hit the top of his left shoulder. He grunted and rounded on the man who was charging at him with the blade-end of his bayonet. The metal came flying at his head and he ducked quickly. A horseman was riding up behind the man. Erik dodged out of the way of the strike from the incoming man while his opponent didn't prove as lucky. Erik hovered a hand over his shoulder, feeling the round lead lodged against the bone within. It had broken flesh but hadn't hit bone thankfully.
Before he could remove the musket ball, he reeled as a sudden force sent him stumbling a few feet back into the path of several horses. Erik quickly reached out for every bit of metal he could find and sent the horses in another direction. He jumped up, gritting his teeth in annoyance and anger. Ten of Shaw's men were running towards him, bayonets at the ready. He sneered in reply, lifting his metal arrow up and sending it towards the men, killing them one by one. He kept his arrow aloft, striking down any man who got in his way on his quest to find Shaw or using the metal on their person to throw them, crush them or send them to the ground to be trampled.
There was a great roaring building up over the battlefield. There was the clashing of swords, the sounds of musket and rifle fire, the whistling of arrows and ball bearings through the air, the sound of shields meeting armor, blasts from the Gifted soldiers, flyers swooping past. The din was growing louder and louder, all but deafening.
"Shaw's about to blow!" Emma warned in his head.
"Find cover!" Erik shouted, gripping onto as many metal pieces as he could, shields, swords, armor from fallen men and horses. He built it up in front of himself and ducked his head.
The blow that came a few moments later was expected but no less powerful, only not knocking him off his feet due to his shield wall. He grunted as the metal rippled, nearly losing concentration as men, women, and horses around him were propelled back off their feet. The ground was ripped up, flinging mud and dirt flying past his helmet into his face. He ripped his helm off, rubbing the dirt away from his eyes. He glanced around himself quickly, assessing the new terrain. The fog was mostly clear now, Shaw's blast having scattered the offending smog, giving Erik a clear view of the battlegrounds. Nearly everyone was brought to the floor from the force of Shaw's blast wave. Some were moving, others were not.
"Emma? Elizabeth?"
He glanced beside him as Elizabeth hovered down to the ground clutching a diamond-encrusted Emma by her side, her purple energy dissipating as they touched the ground followed soon by Warren, holding Mortimer. Azazel appeared in a cloud of red and sulfur by his other side, his teeth bared, with Bobby, Sean and Heather transported alongside him, and the Summers brothers appearing as well.
Erik nodded to himself, glad to have his Brotherhood by his side. He shifted the metal from in front of him and looked out across the devastation. Shaw hadn't just blasted Erik's army but his own. He stood alone surrounded by mounds of soldiers knocked unconscious, too disoriented to fight, or dead.
"Eleven on one, Erik? Hardly a fair fight," he called across the field, walking towards them across the bodies.
"Because you care so much for fairness. If you did, you would've never left my sister to your son's mercy."
Shaw shrugged, seemingly not caring to continue the lie.
"Shinobi was always a peculiar boy. I lifted him up from bastardry, legitimized him, and he let it get to his head. Annoying to always feed so undeserved an ego, so I admit I often left him to his devices, let him play with his toys until he would bring their broken bodies to me like a cat bringing a dead bird to its owner. An apt analogy. Little, darling Ruth. A beautiful bird that you caged up in that big palace of yours, never let her see the world. It's no wonder it broke her. Blame yourself for that, blame our dearly departed king, blame my son. I'm hardly to blame."
"Maybe so. But you did attack the city, killed civilians and my father. For that alone, I'd have no mercy to spare for you."
"Then show me. If you're alpha enough to take my son, let's see how you and your little merry band measure up to me."
Alex ran forward first, sending a blast of red energy towards Shaw, which he absorbed easily, but it was enough of a distraction for Elizabeth to strike, flying through the air to attack Shaw just as Erik sent his swords and daggers flying towards him as well. Elizabeth struck down at Shaw with her large blade and a small blast from Shaw sent her and the projectiles back, but the others continued forward, attacking Shaw with all they had. Alex and Scott sent strategic blasts his way as did Sean and Bobby. At the same time, Elizabeth and Warren attacked him from the air. Mortimer and Heather jumped in, getting licks in where they could, and Azazel teleported in, attacking Shaw as his back was turned. Erik sent metal projectiles his way ever so often but was more interested in the others keeping Shaw distracted so he did not suspect their plan.
He could see Shaw getting charged up from the continuous energy being thrown his way, could see him smirk as he got ready to blow.
"Fall back!" Erik called out, moving to stand beside Bobby just as he created an ice barrier to protect them along with Heather and Emma from the blast. It hit them in a gust of wind, pushing more dirt and debris their way. Bobby held strong against the force, barely moved by it even as cracks formed in his shield.
He could see Shaw through the near translucent material, could see him slightly bent over his knees, his body recuperating from expending all that energy. He glanced over at Heather, nodding at her to strike now. She held out her hands towards the recovering alpha and Erik watched in fascination as the debris falling back to the earth around the man slowed down, as did the man himself, his hand moving in slow motion, the movement of his hair nearly ceasing.
"I can't hold him long," Heather advised.
"You don't have to," Azazel answered, teleporting over to Shaw and unceremoniously taking the helmet off his head.
"I've got him," Emma advised, prompting Heather to drop her hands, allowing time to resume its pace, although Shaw remained frozen.
Erik approached the immobilized man. Shaw was staring at him with an indeterminate look on his face. Erik wanted to say it was fear, but he couldn't tell.
"Is he in there?"
"He is, but he's strong. I can't hold him for long," Emma answered, her voice already strained.
"I want you to know that once this is done, once you're dead, I will put all of this to rest. I will not stay up at night cursing you and your son. I will not think of you in my darkest hours. I will move on, secure in the knowledge that you and your ilk have paid for what you took from me, from this world. Your death could never erase your actions, it will never amount to Ruth's life or my father's. I suppose some will say I am acting out of vengeance rather than justice. I suppose they are right. Maybe my actions up until now have been wrong. Maybe I've gone too far in some respects. Maybe I have let this need consume me, blot out all sense. Perhaps I will be venerated, lauded, if I take you back to Krakoa alive and execute you in front of the people. That may even be the right thing to do, the noble thing."
Erik stepped closer to the crater Shaw stood in, narrowing his eyes as some indiscernible emotion bled into the man's eyes.
"But, unfortunately for you, you killed my sister. Maybe she didn't die by your hand, but she was killed by your inaction as surely as she was by your son's abuse. So there will be no trial. There will be no grand show of whipping you through the streets. Your death will not be some long drawn out thing, giving you time to think up soliloquies you can bequeath onto the masses in a last-ditch attempt to undermine my rule."
Erik levitated his adamantium arrow and lined it up with Shaw's head.
"I will end this now. I will banish you from this earth and the hatred that came with you from my mind and my heart. I will live for my kinsmen and my kingdom, for my children and for love and let every bit of the poison that has infected me these past two years die with you. This, I swear in the sight of HaShem."
He held his fist up, holding the arrow steady before opening his palm and sending it flying straight through Shaw's skull, killing him instantly.
The man dropped to the floor after a moment, dead. Unbidden, a tear fell down his face as the great weight that had been settled on his chest shifted. It didn't go away, but he could breathe easier, could think clearer. He could see an end now, a door closing.
He thought of Ruth, young and vivacious and full of life, thought of all she didn't get to do and all the ways he failed her. He hoped this meant something to her, wherever she was.
Rest in peaceful slumber, my dear one. Rest and know you are forever loved and those who snuffed your light out have been struck down.