Erik was the first one who made Mystique feel beautiful. Whenever he would willingly touch her scaly, spiked skin she would feel wonderful. Every compliment he gave her made her glow. So much about him seemed geared towards making her feel like she was the most gorgeous creature in the entire world.
That was it though. A few months into their relationship she started to wonder if he loved her. Certainly he was attracted to her. Mystique had no doubt about that. Yet, so much of their relationship seemed physical. He always seemed happy to see her, but Erik had never once told her that he loved her.
It hurt, but she comforted herself that he just wasn't one for words. His life hadn't been filled with family and friends. Expressing his feelings was probably difficult for him. He wasn't like her brother whose fluent oratory skills had won him the hearts of so many women. Erik was silent and physical. Mystique contented herself with that reasoning.
That worked for the first year. As their Brotherhood grew she found herself increasingly away from him. He would never write to her and gave her only terse orders through the phone. She told herself that it was for security reasons. When she saw him again and he didn't say he missed her, Mystique again decided that it was because he wasn't a verbal kind of person.
That explanation lasted no time at all. Her latest mission was months away from him and she felt her resolution waver. No longer did she feel beautiful; she felt neglected and unloved. Mystique tried to stay strong but it was like all of her work over the past year had been nullified. She was once again an ugly creature that had to hide. After all, it seemed apparent that the man who had first called her beautiful didn't love her.
More worries bombarded her. Did he even think that she was really beautiful? Or was he only with her because his idea of beauty was focused around mutants? The less human a person looked the more he appeared to be impressed with them. Everyone was accepted, a message he seemed to solidify by having a lover with yellow eyes, red hair, and blue skin.
In that mood she went downstairs and downed half of a six-pack. She'd cried for a little bit, then stopped because she was afraid someone would hear her. After an hour Azazel, the other member of the Brotherhood who shared her mission, wandered downstairs. He hadn't said much, just quirked an eyebrow at her and picked up a beer. They sat in silence for a while, just drinking. Then, feeling that she had nothing to lose, she leaned over and kissed him.
He'd kissed back. She had been a little surprised but pleased and, well, one thing had led to another. She woke up the next morning in his room. It had been an odd sensation, waking in an unfamiliar bed. Mystique had figured out whose it was when a red hand had stroked the side of her face.
She'd jumped out of the bed dragging a sheet behind her. Most times she would walk around with no covering at all but she suddenly felt self-conscious. He'd stared at her with a strange expression and she'd all but fled the room. The next hour was spent in her room with the doors locked, her chin on her knees and rocking back and forth in a soothing motion.
Later, when she had the chance to collect herself she realized how incredibly rude she had been. She winced when she thought of how she had acted. Rather shyly she returned to his room. She wasn't sure whether to be in and was part relieved and part scared when she realized he was there.
He gave her a side smile and she instantly felt terrible. Swallowing she sat on the edge of his bed.
"You left early," he said.
Mystique felt something stick in her throat. She'd never been in this situation before.
"I think we need to talk," she said.
Azazel inclined his head towards her. He teleported so that he was sitting next to her.
"Listen," Mystique said carefully, "I know you know that I'm together with Erik."
"We all know," Azazel said, smirking, "But you weren't with him last night, nyet?"
She felt herself flush and the urge to slap him came over her. Mystique couldn't be insulting though; she owed him that much. At the same time she didn't know how to make herself clearly understood.
"No, but I was really drunk last night," she agreed, "I don't mean that as…I mean…"
He rested his chin on his hand. Azazel wasn't hostile, which made her glad. Thus far he was simply listening with polite interest.
"I didn't want to cheat on him," she said, "I was upset and drunk. You had had a few drinks too and we were in the same room… and… basically last night…"
Mystique swallowed.
"Last night was wrong. I'm really sorry that you had to get mixed up in it."
Azazel raised an eyebrow. She couldn't see any malice in his expression. The polite interest had disappeared, sure enough. It had been replaced by amusement and he started laughing. However, it didn't seem like he was laughing at her exactly. Maybe it was amusement over the strangeness of their situation? Yes, that was what it must have been. Mystique felt relieved; he understood.
Then he grabbed the back of her head and pulled her into a kiss. It had been intense. She'd meant to pull away, she really had, but for some reason she hadn't. Instead she'd spent another hour in his room. Mystique had been there the next night, and several nights after. There were a few nights when she hadn't gone to him, but she knew they were few and far between.
Mystique told herself that she wasn't emotionally invested in Azazel. They laughed together during the day, talked about so many things. It was nice to be around him, even though she'd seen him kill with a ruthless efficiency in the field. However, the one she loved deep down was Erik. She kept telling herself that. One morning she'd even rolled over and told Azazel
"You know that this isn't…a relationship right?" she asked, "What we have, you know it's not permanent."
"Da," he said, "You'll run back to Magneto the moment he gets here. And there will be nyet looking back."
"Exactly."
Azazel smiled politely.
"So just enjoy it," he said.
Eventually the mission had ended and she'd seen Erik again. Mystique had felt genuinely excited to see him again. What happened with Azazel was in the past; there was no need for him to be hurt because she'd been feeling lonely. So Mystique had given a curt nod to Azazel that morning and gone in ready to go back to Erik.
She wasn't sure just what she was expecting, but she was disappointed. Erik had given her a cold kiss on the forehead of all things in welcome.
"I'm glad you completed your mission, but I'm just on my way out," Erik said, "There's a situation developing in Canada that I have to be there for."
Out of the corner of her eye she thought she'd seen Azazel smirking. She'd given him a good long look but his face was an indifferent mask.
"No, that's fine," she said.
She'd hoped that he'd apologize to her, or at least, make some promise to come back soon. Instead he'd nodded to her and gone straight back to gathering his things. Anger bubbled in her, anger and rejection. When Erik shut the door on the way out Mystique was in Azazel's arms again.
Deep down she knew what she was doing was wrong. Yet, part of her wondered if Erik would be all that hurt. How could he be when he never seemed to care about her? When she was with Azazel she felt not only beautiful, but treasured. Erik would kiss her and ghost his fingers across her skin. Azazel would all but devour her. Erik wasn't one for words. Azazel would whisper things in Russian to her that she couldn't understand until she fell asleep.
One word that she caught more than any other was 'Raisa'. He would whisper it while he thought she was asleep and his fingers combed through her hair. Somehow she knew that it was some sort of name for her. Mystique never asked what it meant though; she had a feeling he would just smirk at her and quirk an eyebrow.
It would also be acknowledging that he had a sort of pet name for her. If she acknowledged that then she would give voice to a niggling doubt in the back of her head. The doubt was deep rooted and terrifying. It was only a problem when she took into account that despite everything she still loved Erik. She was going to Azazel for attention and that was all. This was something that she knew; she had even told Azazel this. The doubt simply said that he didn't believe her.
Emma sipped from a crystal glass that was filled with champagne. She pulled it away from her face and looked at it. Her hands wore silk gloves with diamond rings over them. Her matching tiara, earrings, and necklace were, in her opinion, rather grand. An elegant white evening gown caressed her body and pooled on the floor. When she'd first heard that all members of the Hellfire Club had to dress in Victorian wear when in the club she'd thought it silly. However, visibly dressing like an aristocrat did make it easier to see yourself as one.
Smiling she leaned back, letting herself sink into the comfortable chaise she'd brought up. This was certainly an upgrade from when she'd been trapped within the Brotherhood's ranks. As the White Queen of the Hellfire Club she had been indulging in her own plots and the good life ever since.
She tapped the champagne glass against the side of the couch as Jason Wyrngarde, or Mastermind as he liked to be known, took a seat opposite her.
"Jason," she said.
"Sorry I'm late," he said.
"For you," she said, "I wait. Would you like some champagne?"
"No thank you."
"Suit yourself."
Taking another sip of champagne she said;
"So what do I owe this pleasure to? It's not often that I hear from you."
"Well," Jason said, "I'd actually like to ask you for a favor."
"About time," Emma laughed, "It's been over a year since you saved me from the Brotherhood. I was starting to wonder when you were going to cash in."
He smiled.
"Never fear, I remember everything owed to me," he said, "You see, I recently heard that the position of Black Rook was open."
Emma inclined her head. She knew where this was going.
"You're right," she said, "Unfortunately not only did Tessa die but her assassin managed to get themself killed in the attempt. With no clear successor we're going to pick from amongst the Knights and vote on our favorites."
"I'm aware," said Jason, "As a Cardinal I have no vote. But I would appreciate it if you would throw your support behind my daughter Regan."
Her eyebrows shot up and she took another sip of champagne.
"You know, I'm not really surprised," said Emma, "But I assumed you'd be trying to push your older daughter into the position."
"Oh, I have plans for Martinique," Jason said, "And they are far grander than that of a mere Rook."
Now that made sense.
"Going for Black King? Want her to become Black Queen?" asked Emma, "I feel that as a friend I should warn you; your illusions are not powerful enough to take the positions from thier current owners, not even with Martinique helping you."
"Don't worry," he said, "I have some theories about how to boost my power. But that's for another time. Right now I'm only worried about Regan. Fathers should take care of all of their children; not just the oldest ones."
"And what about Megan?"
He made a face.
"You know about her?" he asked.
"I know quite a bit about your bastard. You did take her in, and a third child does attract attention," Emma said, "Planning on her joining the Hellfire Club one day too?"
"She's a half-wit and an embarrassment in public," Jason said bluntly.
Leaning back Emma cocked her head.
"That's a lot to gather from a seven year old. she's what I'm supposing this means you don't provide for all of them?"
"I'll make sure she has enough money to survive, but she's stupid and weak," Jason said, "She cries and bruises easily; not at all like her other sisters. The little Princess doesn't belong."
A voice rose unbidden in the back of her mind-
What did you expect would happen, Princess?
Emma's hand turned into diamond and crushed her champagne glass. Jason jumped as the shattered glass and champagne foutained out.
"Jason, I enjoy our mutually beneficial friendship," said Emma sweetly, "Which is why I'm warning you not to use that term around me in reference to your daughter or anyone else again instead of just rendering you comatose. Understood?"
He gave her a strange look and nodded. Her face resumed its cheerful countenance. It was just one more conversation in the Hellfire Club.
"Don't worry, Regan has my voice. But do tell me about your plan for becoming Black King sometime," she said, "I'd be most interested."
"I will," he assured her, "I will."
A/N: I'm a Mystique/Magneto fan, but Azazel and Mystique do have to get together or a key component from X2 would have been missing. I'm not going to be able to post tomorrow, so I'm jsut posting two chapters tonight.