Emma Frost had wondered what it was about his third daughter that Jason had hated so much. It couldn't be that she wasn't a boy; he had seemed pleased to have his first two daughters. It couldn't even be that she apparently didn't have his power; he was always looking for fresh talent to incorporate into his circles.
When she finally met Megan she understood and it sickened her. Emma had been introduced to Jason's first two daughters at a few Hellfire events. Martinique, his eldest daughter, had flowing chestnut hair. Her skin was clear and perfect. She was, in short, beautiful. Even if she was a skank by all decent standards there was nothing wrong with her physically.
The only real difference between Martinique and Regan was their hair color. Regan was blonde. They tended to dress alike, to the horror of the fashion world, so they didn't really stand out. They were also each equally nasty. And when they smiled? It was like looking at two girl versions of Jason with different hair.
Megan looked nothing like her father or sisters. She didn't even look like she was the same species as them. Her eyes were twice as big as a normal human's, shiny and black with only a speck of white in the middle showing. Megan's features, including her ears, were pointed and elfish. Instead of having any normal hair color Megan's was a bubblegum pink.
All of this paled in comparison to the rainbow colored, translucent wings that grew out of her back. The girl looked like a pixie. There was nothing about her that could pass for normal on the street. If she was lucky she could strap down her wings and pretend like she was in a theater troupe. If, of course, she was lucky.
The fact that Megan had been born to Jason Wyngarde showed that she wasn't lucky at all though. She had none of her father's powers, none of his looks. Jason loved his oldest daughters because they were reflections of himself. Megan shared nothing in common with him and never could. Even if she grew up to be just as nasty as him she would still look like a character out of a fantasy book. It wasn't the image that Jason wanted to portray.
So it was a given that he would take out his frustrations on her. How could he produce anything less than perfect? If Megan wasn't perfect then it was her own fault. The hurt and fear in the small girl's eyes confirmed Emma's theory. Hurt like that wasn't usually emitted to that level when a child met a stranger for the first time.
"My name is Emma Frost, I work with your father," Emma said.
Megan gave what looked like a curtsey. Cute.
"Megan Gwyn," she said.
Emma frowned.
"Your father's last name is Wyngarde," she said.
"He…said I should use mother's last name," said Megan.
She nodded. Of course he wouldn't want her to be linked to him. If she had a different last name then it erected a barrier of separation. However, Emma didn't have time to play pity party no matter how frightened the little girl was. She was there for business, to see if she would take Megan on as her page and apprentice.
"Alright," she said, "can you fly?"
Megan nodded, still careful.
"Father said that I shouldn't too much, but I can," she said.
"I see," Emma said, "Do you have heightened hearing? Your ears are certainly big enough for it."
The words left her lips before she could stop them. Megan's eyes welled with tears but she didn't cry.
"No ma'am," whispered Megan.
Her hurt was littered all over her face. Although Emma regretted talking to her like she had she couldn't repress a sigh of irritation.
"Listen to me," she said, "Megan, do you know why I'm here?"
Megan clasped her hands together.
"Father said you might want to train me," said Megan.
"Correct," said Emma, "but no matter how this turns out I want to give you some advice; don't let people see you."
Big black eyes looked at her in confusion.
"Let other people see what you want them to see," she clarified, "And that part of you shouldn't give a damn what other people think. They can't hurt you, can't get at you if you only show them one side of yourself. That part's you but it isn't really you. The real you can't be touched. You'll always be safe."
She knew it worked; it had gotten her to where she was today. Until recently she had thought it was just being thick-skinned, but now she thought of it as her 'White Queen persona'. The White Queen was the epitome of perfection. She had always been loved, she had always been wealthy, she had always been in control. Everything that came to her came to her was because she was entitled to it. The world owed her just because she existed.
This was the image that Emma wanted to portray. It had gotten her a seat of power beyond anything she had ever dreamed of. Enemies fell at her feet just because her reputation had reached them before she had. No one dared show her any disrespect. She was desired and feared by all.
Emma had come a long way from being the daughter who couldn't please her father no matter what while her mother dosed herself with opium in the background. After all, the White Queen had no parents. She didn't have backstabbing sisters either, something Emma was eternally grateful about.
The White Queen had never been rejected. She had never been alone. A man she loved had never severed contact with her because of her powers. She'd never been in pain or wished more than anything for someone, anyone to find value in her. It was the perfect facade.
More people did it then they realized. There were different faces they assumed when they were at work or when they were at home. Her job was the White Queen and it was a twenty-four seven operation. If she had to use it for the rest of her life then she would. At least her life would be longer that way.
To her it had first happened when she saw Shaw kill someone. He'd taken a localized explosion and forced it down the man's throat. She learned later it was his favorite method of execution. He had burned from the inside and then exploded, filling the air with the smell of scorched flesh and the sound of his screams.
At that point Shaw had shown her how she could escape from her life. Admittedly she was using him, but she still had to prove herself as valuable at that point. So, although she had wanted to retch and gag, she had stood perfectly still. The face she had to show was of one who didn't care. And she'd showed it, and she'd gone far.
Why she'd shared that piece of information with Megan was beyond her. The girl wouldn't understand it.
"I think I get it," said Megan.
"You're too young," Emma said disdainfully.
"No," Megan said, "It's like a shield around yourself. And if they can't get through it, they can't hurt you. So it's like they're calling someone else those names."
Emma raised her eyebrow.
"Perhaps you do understand," she said.
It went without saying that Emma Frost wanted to make time for the girl. She might have little empathy for other people but there was a soft spot in her for abused children, especially if they were girls. And Megan seemed clever too. Her father might only be calling her stupid because he hated her for how she looked.
At the same time there was no advantage to it. Emma already had Jason's 'friendship' and she wouldn't lose it by refusing him if she did it correctly. If she took her in without some clear advantage to herself then she would look like someone who did favors without expecting something in return. Soon they would think she was weak, and the White Queen couldn't be seen as weak.
"Isn't that a sad way to live though?" asked Megan, "Doesn't it make you lonely?"
She smiled; ah, the naivety of children.
"It ensures that you do live," Emma said, "So it's fine."
Megan frowned. She might have said something else but Jason came in. He glanced at Megan and she scurried from the room. Jason sat beside her.
"So?" he asked.
"She shows potential. It's buried, but it's there," said Emma, "but unfortunately my answer to your request is no. You understand how busy of a schedule I have."
Jason nodded. He looked at the door from which his daughter had exited from with an irritated expression.
"But," said Emma, "I would make time if Megan's father became Black King."
Suddenly he looked confident. She wondered if it was his trademark arrogance or if he really could go through with his plan.
"Then you'll be having Megan as your page rather soon."
"Goodness," laughed Emma, "I hope your plan is half as good as you seem to think it is. You know the repercussions if it's discovered or you fail."
The last time a would-be-club-climber had failed to seize a seat the repercussions had been swift. The White Cardinal, who had been the offended party, had killed them. Then they had gone through and destroyed every single adherent that they'd had. It was a tradition deeply rooted in the Hellfire Club. It was like the sweeping of a family that had tried to seize the throne in the feudal ages.
"I'd even have to join in, show how much I disapprove of such betrayal," she said.
"I have everything covered. The only one besides my daughters who know of it are you, and it's no threat to your power so you won't tell," he said, "And yes, I'm aware. But I can assure you that I won't fail."