Charles sat in awe as the carriage he occupied pulled through the streets of Krakoa. The ride from Logan's inn towards the city had felt like it took an age. It had only been two days, but he was anxious and antsy. That tugging in his chest had gotten more insistent as the days went on with Erik gone. He had become thoroughly annoyed with his heart and this bond Logan claimed they had. Awful needy thing. However, he could not deny that he was over the moon with joy when Logan arrived and announced a resounding victory in favor of House Lehnsherr.
He had held out faith for the children, but he was worried. He tried to distract them as best he could but going into the woods didn't feel the same without Erik. He continued teaching them, he read them stories by the fireplace, they drew together, he helped David with his powers, and he even tried his hand at teaching Anya stitchwork. The whole time Erik was never far from his mind. Charles wished he could be out there with him. His martial education was abandoned once he settled as an omega. He didn't know how to shoot a gun, couldn't box, or swing a sword with any skill. He barely knew how to shoot an arrow without assistance, but he was a telepath and not a weak one. Realistically, he knew he'd be more of a hindrance. Logan and Erik would end up protecting him instead of themselves, so he waited and was rewarded. Beyond his own relief, the bright smile on Anya's face at the news was well worth it.
Following the relief came the decision he had to make of whether he would stay at Logan's inn or go to the capital. He thought of the passages of Jane Eyre he had been using to keep himself hearty. He thought of Erik's sincerity in his invitation and his veiled confessions about his feelings for Charles. He thought of his broken heart and his wounded pride over being lied to. He thought of Logan's theory on their inexplicable connection. He thought of how hard it would be to say goodbye to Anya and the twins. He thought of David, who would probably be safer in obscurity, and how David had been inquiring about Erik's whereabouts ever since he left. David wasn't ready to say goodbye yet. If he were honest with himself, Charles wasn't ready either.
Logan decided to stay behind, not keen on immersing himself in courtly drama. He bestowed Charles with more monies than he wanted to accept, but his godfather would not be swayed. Charles was sad to say goodbye to both his godfather and the inn. They had been refuges for him and David after a long, dreadful ordeal. They had come to symbolize home, safety, warmth, and happiness. Erik and his children, in many ways, represented those things just as well. Charles did not want to look too deeply into the implications of that, not when he was still so indecisive about what his future was to be. He hugged Logan tightly, promised to write and then rode off, leaving the inn behind him.
The ride to the capital was not unpleasant. It reinforced the beauty of the country in Charles' eyes. Even the most mundane villages had a natural sort of attraction, but Krakoa took the cake. What really grabbed his attention was the royal palace. He had seen it in Erik's thoughts, but the sight of it was another story. It was a medieval castle made up of seven massive drum-towers crowned with iron ramparts. Immense curtain walls surrounded the castle along with nests and crenellations for archers. Thick stone parapets four feet high protected the outer edge of the ramparts. There were high bronze gates and portcullises, postern doors and cornerforts. The immense barbican had a cobbled square in front of it where the townsfolk set up a small marketplace in addition to the ones within the city proper. Behind the walls were small inner yards, vaulted halls, covered bridges, barracks for the city's watch, dungeons, granaries, kennels, and stables and that was just outside. Tony's manor, the largest castle in Westchester, would fit inside the Genoshan palace twice over. The only building that rivaled the palace was Krakoa's Great Synagogue, a spire of glass and iron with black marble walls and arched windows in the center of the city, inviting all to worship in the Judeo religion of Genosha. The city looked like something from a dream. He wondered if that was all this was, some elaborate delusion brought on by the drugs and years of mental trauma. If it was, he never wanted to wake.
David squirmed around on his lap, twisting to look out the windows with fascination. There was a significant crowd outside, so Charles kept their connection tightly wound, not letting the two-year-old venture out psionically. He didn't seem too put out with it, curiously taking in the new environment.
"What do you think, darling? Do you like it?"
David looked up at him and mentally projected a blurry image of Erik in answer. Charles gave him an indulgent look at that.
"We'll see him soon, I expect," Charles reassured him.
The answer appeared to satisfy David and he turned back to the window.
On the other side of the carriage, Pietro was practically bouncing with energy. Being cooped up in a carriage was undoubtedly not one of his favorite things in the world, but he was too small to ride a horse on his own. If Charles had much less patience, he would've been driven up a wall by the young boy's antics. He could only imagine Erik would've been at his wit's end by now.
Anya was looking out her window, waving at various people graciously and shouting greetings and well-wishes. Charles couldn't help but smile at her as she played the part of princess. It suited her well.
Wanda did not join her sister in engaging with the people but was nowhere near as restless as her brother. He noticed she relaxed more and more as they entered the city. He got residual feelings of safe safe safe no battle no blood no bad people safe from her thoughts. He threw an arm around her shoulder and smiled down at her when she looked up at him. She snuggled into his side with no complaints as they continued.
Eventually, the carriage stopped. Charles glanced out to see they were in a small courtyard, but it didn't appear to be the palace's main entrance. The footman pulled open the door and helped Anya out first. Pietro raced out behind her. Charles took a deep, calming breath. Once he left this carriage, he was electing to face an avalanche of scrutiny, even if he and Erik remained entirely platonic. He was a stranger in this land and in this castle, and close with the royal family. That would immediately make him both the enemy and a popular man who the more opportunistic courtiers would seek out. He had thought he left this whole song and dance behind him in Westchester, but apparently not. Still, he didn't quite regret accepting Erik's invitation. In truth, Charles was a stubborn man and prone to the impulse of proving himself to others. If nothing else, the idea that he would be judged so harshly was enough for a kernel of defiance to grow in him and make him want to show everyone who would say otherwise that he was worthy of standing next to Erik. It was easier to convince others rather than himself.
"Are we going, Charles?" Wanda asked as he had not moved.
He glanced up at the footman, still waiting for him.
"Yes, dear. Sorry. I was lost in myself for a moment. Go ahead of me."
Wanda twisted her lip in dissatisfaction.
"I wanna go together."
"Want to," he corrected absentmindedly.
"I want to go together," she repeated, a stubborn set to her lips.
"You're a princess, you have to proceed me. It's inappropriate otherwise. I'll step out right behind you."
"Charles…" she whined.
David shifted in his lap in response to her noises of discontent. Charles doublechecked their connection to be sure David wasn't getting any telepathic shrapnel, but the toddler just watched the beginnings of her tantrum with an apathetic gaze.
"Your father is out there waiting, do you think he would appreciate you throwing a fit the first time he sees you again?"
Wanda whined for a second time before looking down with a pout.
"Can I hold your hand when we get outside then?"
Charles knew that wasn't the done thing, but nodded nonetheless. Pleased with the arrangement, Wanda moved past him and allowed the footman (now looking at him curiously) to help her down the steps. Charles took the time to gather himself, the tugging in his chest making itself known. He ignored it in favor of securing David in his arms and taking the footman's hand.
He stepped out of the carriage to be greeted to a smaller cobblestone piazza with a garden on one side and a gated tunnel to the other. It looked to be a private entrance to the castle, forgoing the pomp and circumstance. Charles wondered if this was on account of him. Was Erik embarrassed to present him to the court by walking him and David through the front entrance? Charles dismissed the thought after a second. Erik was hardly embarrassed by his own children and Charles would've been overwhelmed with that kind of thing as his first experience with the royal court anyway.
Erik stood at the entrance to the gate along with several guardsmen greeting Anya and Pietro. A wave of relief coursed through him at the sight of the alpha. Realistically, he knew he was alright, but it was another to see it. He did feel a stab of concern at the sling Erik's left arm was in.
Wanda latched on to his hand, not to be denied her request. Charles allowed it seeing as how there was no one else around save for the guards. They may gossip amongst themselves, but they didn't mix with the courtiers overmuch, at least not in Westchester. He allowed Wanda to lead him and David over to the rest of the royal family. She ran the last few feet, jumping into Erik's embrace happily, accepting his kisses with a giggle, before retreating to her twin's side. David made his presence known, mentally nudging Erik for attention. The auburn-haired man stood up straight and leaned over to ruffle the brunette hair atop his head. Charles could feel him project something to David that started the toddler cooing serenely. Finally, Erik's eyes switched to him.
"Charles, I'm pleased you elected to come," he said formally, but with an undertone of happiness.
"It's not every day one gets a chance to be the personal guest of the king, is it?"
"Not king just yet, but soon."
"Nevertheless, I'm glad to see you victorious, though your arm gives me pause."
"Musket ball," he answered dismissively.
Charles was not nearly so glib.
"Is it serious?"
"Little more than a flesh wound."
Charles looked doubtfully at his sling.
"Have you been going to see a physician regularly?"
"I was looked over after the battle. It's fine."
Charles glared at him in response to his flippant attitude.
"You must take care with yourself. It could become infected, you know. Musket wounds have the tendency to seem benign until they are decidedly not. The physician should be making every effort to see about your health if you won't go yourself. They should be changing your bandages regularly, employing the appropriate salves and potions to fight infection, and being sure you keep your arm as immobile as possible. A hard feat knowing you, but nevertheless—"
"Charles," Erik interrupted, raising an eyebrow at his rant with an amused look.
He stopped abruptly when he realized what he was doing. His omega instinct to nurture and protect had run away with his mouth.
He is not my alpha, he reminded himself.
An insistent tugging in his chest was his only answer.
"I apologize. They are appointed by the crown to care for you. They would know more than I, I'm sure. I was just worried."
"I appreciate your worry, but it is not necessary. I am virtually unscathed."
Charles gave his shoulder a pointed look but put that aside for other matters.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, no longer addressing his physical health. Erik picked up on this change in subject.
"I am better in many respects. There will be mourning yet, but some wounds are becoming scars more and more each hour."
Charles reached out to Erik, just skimming the surface of his thoughts and emotions. That ball of negativity was still present but significantly smaller than when he left. Charles was surprised but not displeased. Erik deserved to be able to lay his ghosts to rest. If this battle with Shaw allowed him to do just that, then Charles was glad of it. He was doubly glad that Erik's emotions hadn't blinded him, and he was able to come out of this conflict alive.
"As long as your soul is at peace, my friend."
The two shared a look of understanding before Erik spoke again.
"I have had a room prepared for you and the nursery is available for David."
Charles rose an eyebrow.
"With the twins? Won't that be improper?"
"Do you care?"
"Others will."
"Let them."
Charles opened his mouth before snapping it shut. He nodded wordlessly instead. They stood awkwardly silent for a moment before Anya tugged on both of their sleeves.
"Let's go inside. I want to show Charles the castle."
"You've been on the road for some time. You both need to settle in first. You have plenty of time to show him the palace. For now, I will show him to his room," Erik started before turning to him,
"If that's alright."
Charles was sure that was a servant's job and not the crown prince but nodded anyway. He followed Erik through the hallways, passing by various people as they went, servants and nobles alike. He garnered looks of curiosity, but he ignored it in favor of taking in his surroundings. The castle showed signs of a siege from patched holes in the roof to scarred walls. It wasn't anything that couldn't be repaired in a few months, but he wondered how Erik felt living with these reminders.
Finally, he was led to a large guest room draped in dark blue and yellow. The furniture was mahogany. There was a wardrobe with a long mirror attached to the front. The windows were stained glass but large and would open to quite a view, he was sure. There was an expensive-looking vase half-filled with water on the bedside dresser, but it held no flowers. What truly grabbed his attention was the four-poster featherbed in the room. He had to repress the urge to run to it and bury himself in the softness. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would never lay in that kind of comfort again, but there it was. He had not been able to hide the subtle elation because Erik chuckled next to him, the dark timbre of it sending a lance of tangled emotion through him.
"I admit, I believe it is a leg up on the beds Logan's inn had to offer," Erik joked.
Charles smirked in reply.
"Don't let my beloved godfather hear you say that. Besides, they served their purpose," he quipped back before blushing furiously when he realized the connotation of his words.
Erik's face took on a strange expression before he cleared his throat and nodded.
"I quite agree."
Charles bit his lip as another hush prevailed between them, this one not so much awkward as it was loaded, but Erik's slight exclamation cut the silence.
"I nearly forgot."
He watched Erik approach the room that adjoined to the main bedroom. Charles caught a glimpse of a crib inside and a wardrobe before Erik returned, pushing a small wooden rocking horse while clutching a bouquet of flowers in the same hand. Charles recognized them as the ones he had come to favor that grew near Logan's inn: carnations, peonies, blue irises, and chrysanthemums. That couldn't be a coincidence.
"I thought David might like the horse and the flowers are for you. Consider them gifts of welcome."
A wave of happiness overtook the room as David spotted the toy. He began to reach out towards it and Charles let him down, placing him atop the faux horse. The twins assailed on him almost immediately, rocking him back and forth. Anya wordlessly stepped closer to supervise without prompting. Only when he was sure she was watching did he look back to the bouquet still in Erik's proffered grip. He was a little slower to take the flowers but eventually accepted, twirling the arrangement under his nose. He glanced up at Erik from beneath his lashes, his nose still obscured within the petals. There was an expression upon his face that Charles was too frightened to identify. He was saved from doing so when a knock came to the door.
"My prince?" A voice called from outside.
"Come."
A brunette beta around Erik's age walked into the room holding several garments. She was pretty and dressed too finely to be a servant but, compared to some of the other nobles Charles had passed in the hall, he would say her clothing was of lesser quality. Perhaps she was from a minor family or a lady-in-waiting. What was she doing here? Maybe Erik was needed elsewhere.
"Ah, good. Charles, meet Lady Moira MacTaggart. She will be attending you during your stay here. Lady Moira, Lord Charles Xavier."
"Lord Charles, pleased to meet you," she said with a curtsey.
Charles looked at Erik with an alarmed expression.
"She can't attend me," he blurted out, not even thinking to moderate his words.
Both Erik and Lady Moira looked taken aback.
"I assure you, I wouldn't have selected Lady Moira if I didn't think her highly qualified to satisfy all your needs. I didn't think it a problem, but if you would prefer someone Gifted instead or an omega—"
"That isn't it at all," Charles protested, appalled at the insinuation before running his reaction back in his head and sighing. He turned to the woman with an apologetic expression.
"I meant no offense. I am certain that your skill is beyond reproach, but I don't need attending. I can take care of myself. I've been doing so for months now. Even if I couldn't, a lady-in-waiting is quite above my station," Charles explained, directing his last statements to Erik.
"Why would she be? You are my guest, I won't have it said I leave my invitees to fend for themselves under my roof."
"It isn't proper."
"You and your Westchesterian sense of propriety. I would've thought we were well past that."
Charles shot a glare at the prince, quite contrary to the message of keeping to propriety, but he had never claimed not to be a contrarian.
"It would be better for everyone if she left. It will cause problems for me, for you, and most likely for her as well."
"Nonsense, she'll stay and attend you."
"What are you playing at?" Charles hissed in Erik's head.
The prince flinched, but to his credit he roused quickly before projecting his answer back.
"I'm simply making sure you are taken care of while you're here."
"I told you I can take care of myself."
"Come now, Charles. Be reasonable," Erik chided in a manner that only served to get Charles even more flustered and frustrated.
"I am being perfectly reasonable, you are the one being utterly unreasonable. People will already gossip about the mysterious stranger the soon-to-be king is entertaining after weeks away from the palace. For all I know, they'll believe me your whore and David your bastard. A lady-in-waiting will only reinforce the idea that you and I have a relationship that crosses the bounds of acquaintanceship."
"Hardly a lie, is it?"
Charles paused. That was true, but as much as Charles was unwilling to allow these courtiers to judge him to his face, that didn't mean he was comfortable giving them reasons to whisper behind his back. They would do so anyway, but the color of those rumors would depend on how Erik acted and if he kept staring at Charles the way he was staring at him now, everyone would know the truth.
"Cut it out."
"Pardon?"
"Stop looking at me like that."
"I've no clue what you mean."
Charles projected the look to Erik. The undercurrents of longing and desire in his gaze with softer emotions Charles refused to name were evident.
"I didn't know I looked at you like that. I don't know that it's something I can change."
Charles stared at Erik, not sure what to extrapolate from that or how to reply.
"If I may," a voice said, cutting through them.
The two men startled, finally remembering that they were not alone in the room. Charles blushed scarlet as he turned to Lady Moira who was now standing beside Anya near the wardrobe. They were both giving them knowing looks tinged with amusement. Charles didn't feel bad about peeking into the woman's mind to see what she had just observed. He blushed deeper at her perception of Charles and Erik bickering then abruptly staring wordlessly into each other's eyes.
If they are not bonded, they will be soon. Poor man, he'll be in for it. I'd better make sure to stay and help him how I can, the woman thought earnestly.
Charles instantly warmed to her and her next words only solidified it.
"If the title of lady-in-waiting makes you uncomfortable, I don't mind if you call me a guide. The palace is large and can be confusing for newcomers. I practically grew up here and can make sure you don't get lost. Beyond that, I can take you into the city and show you all the best vendors. I can play governess. I've got some experience with attending to children, both Gifted and Non-Gifted, so I can attend to your son if needed. I can also be your research partner. The prince says you have a disposition towards the sciences, and I share the same interests. I can be a fellow literature aficionado as the prince has said you quite enjoy reading. I'm not very good at chess I'm afraid, but don't mind learning if you're willing to teach me. If all that does not suffice, you can simply call me a new friend… who just so happens to attend you."
Charles stared at the woman who watched him expectantly before a smile alighted his lips.
"Only if I allow it."
"I like her."
"I thought you would."
"Unfortunately, you will likely need it tonight. I can help you prepare for the feast. I've already picked up your clothes. I can call the seamstress once you've tried them to adjust them," Lady Moira assured.
"Feast?" Charles asked with confusion.
"A small celebration of victory in the ballroom tonight. I meant to say so sooner. You are invited, of course. I had clothing commissioned for you. I hoped you would join my table tonight," Erik explained.
Charles glanced at the garments in the woman's hands. He looked up at Erik again with narrowed eyes. He kept an innocent expression on his face, not that Charles bought that. He wondered what Erik was seeking to accomplish: giving Charles these flowers, bringing him these clothes, inviting him to sit at his table, assigning him a lady-in-waiting, introducing him as Lord Xavier, allowing David to stay in the nursery with the twins, putting Charles in this room garbed in his favorite colors that was, now that he thought of it, entirely too big. This was likely supposed to be held for visiting dignitaries or extended family if he were to guess.
"Whatever are you doing, Erik?"
The alpha stared at him quietly for a moment, his eyes switching over Charles' face, studying him as if he were some existential masterpiece of art.
"Don't you know?"
The answer suddenly became apparent to him. Erik was trying to court him, in not so many words. He was trying to make room for Charles in his life, in his home, in his kingdom, in his world. Erik had never said he didn't want him, never said they weren't a possibility, Charles had. But of course he had. Charles had no choice but to recognize where he was in life and his station compared to Erik's. He knew the many reasons why their match was impossible. It didn't matter if Erik had everyone here address him as a lord or was assisted by a highborn lady-in-waiting, not if everyone learned the truth about him. Clearly, Erik had no intention of telling anyone where he came from. Charles wondered if he did himself. What would be the point? He didn't owe anyone any explanations and nothing they came up with could be worse than the truth, could it? But what if they went looking themselves? What if they found Cain or Kurt? What if someone told them where he was, and they came for him? What would he do? What could he do?
Charles looked away from Erik abruptly as he felt a tension headache forming in his temples. If Erik was doing all of this, he clearly had no intention of making Charles a secret or a mistress. Charles had absolutely no clue what he wanted, or rather he did, but he didn't know if that was the right thing for him to want or pursue. His mind turned to his beloved passages.
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.
So many times in Charles' life, he had given into base emotion. He gave into its whims when he left Raven behind for York. In York, he lived his life half-ruled by his desires. As much as his actions had an underlying agenda, he hadn't hated his dalliances. The chance to live in an environment where he was not constrained by his alpha relatives, coerced to conform by his prejudiced mother, or forced into polite society's restrictions had bred impiety in him, which he enjoyed indulging. Before his marriage, if he wanted something, he did it and damn the consequences. Raven had often called that arrogance, Charles called it independence before Cain and foolishness after him. If he had met Erik in York, he would not have resisted him. He would have pursued him insistently and probably discarded him not long thereafter, as was his practice with even his most passionate lovers. There were things to lose now and Charles was not that person who could act simply on a feeling anymore.
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.
Erik was a man of high emotion. Despite his position, he was not a man who easily let people in. He did not make efforts to befriend individuals. He was polite and willing to help, but he was a solitary soul, so Charles figured it meant a great deal when he let people in. However, in his loneliness, he allowed emotions to stew and fester, be they positive or negative. Even now, Charles could feel the intense waves of passion coming from him. Now it wasn't fueled by hatred, anger, or pain but softer sentiments directed at Charles. He did not know how much he had to do with tempering Erik's emotion before the battle. He was not so foolish or vain as to think one conversation would change years of Erik's feelings, but maybe his words helped. Either way, just like Anya, he did notice a marked difference in Erik from the time they first met to now.
Do your duty as an omega— soothe him, save him, love him, tell him you love him and will be his.
Whether it was the bond Logan theorized about or his omega instincts, Charles wanted nothing more than to submit. He wanted to be Erik's and for Erik to be his. He wanted to keep Erik safe how he could, protect him, even if that meant from himself.
Who in the world cares for you? Or who will be injured by what you do?
David cared for him. Logan cared for him. Raven, wherever she was, cared for him. Anya cared for him. Wanda and Pietro cared for him. Erik cared for him. Most importantly, he cared for himself.
What was he doing anyway? He couldn't live his life by the creeds of a bloody novel. He couldn't live it by the standards others set for him either. If he did everything society dictated, he would still be drooling in front of a window in Xavier Manor, drugged out of his mind and tantamount to a sex slave. His life was his own to do with as he saw fit, to share it with who he deemed appropriate. He and Erik had feelings for each other, that was undeniable. Their relationship worked at Logan's inn. It could've worked on the common streets of Krakoa. Could it work in this palace? Could he get past his reservations and lingering doubts and mistrust? Charles didn't know. He wanted to find out, but he resolved caution was not to be thrown to the wind. He took a deep breath and looked up at Lady Moira.
"Thank you for bringing the clothes. I would like to try them sooner rather than later so the necessary adjustments can be made. It would be horribly unseemly to look unpresentable if I'm to dine at the high table."
Lady Moira gave him a smile and nod, some deeper understanding in her eyes.
"I'll leave you to it then, shall I?" Erik asked beside him.
Charles glanced up at him, not quite meeting his eyes so much as studying his face. There was an air of disappointment and defeat about him.
"Thank you for the clothes and flowers. I will see you tonight."
Erik nodded, taking the dismissal for what it was. He gathered his children, ignoring the twins' protests to usher them out the door.
"Erik?" He called before the man could leave the room, ignoring how improper it was to call him by his name in front of Lady Moira. She had already seen them being indecorous to each other. No assumptions she was making were too far from the truth.
"You will save a dance for me, won't you?"
Erik's face lit up at that. Charles hesitated but smiled back at him in reply.
"I wouldn't dream of doing anything less. That is if you can manage not to step on my toes this time."
"I thought you, strong alpha you are, could take it."
"You would know, I suppose."
Erik rose a suggestive eyebrow at him. Charles couldn't help the flirtatious edge to his smile in return. This, at least, was familiar. Lady Moira cleared her throat daintily, but there was a smirk upon her lips.
"Off with you. You are offending the poor lady's sensibilities. If you stay any longer, I shall tell the entire court how very discourteous their prince is and how appalling I find the manners in this country."
A laugh left Erik's lips as he slipped out of the room. Charles glanced down at David, still engrossed in his new toy, before meeting Lady Moira's eyes. Her lips quirked into a genuine smile.
"If you are to dance and dine with Genosha's ruler, we will have to make sure you are the finest looking gentleman in the room."
Charles glanced down at himself. He had put on some weight at the inn, but he was still too frail-looking for his taste and he was sure his hair looked horribly neglected.
"I don't know how successful you will be, my lady, but you can certainly try. In the meantime, you can tell me about yourself," Charles decided.
He took a deep breath as Lady Moira approached him with the garments. Maybe, there was room for hope still.