Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Marvel. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love.

Note: Yes, I know Victor and Valeria didn't end up together in the comics, but I think fatherhood would change several of Doom's priorities and ideas about things, and to be honest I liked her character too much to get rid of her. Also, Doom is incredibly beloved in Latveria, so a merciful queen to help offset his more… practical tendencies makes sense for cultivating that image.

Chapter Two - Creating A Legacy

Having decided to expedite his plans for domination and power the first thing Doom did upon returning to his Tibetan temple was place his child in the arms of his most trusted servant, Larin. The monk seemed confused to be holding a toddler so Victor explained, "What you hold is my son, Larin. I want you to bath him, clean the wound on his head, and then gather the mystic healers to examine it. I sense dark magic inside the scar and I want to know what has affected my heir."

"Understood, master, I will see to this at once." With pure urgency in his stride the monk literally ran from the room. The doctor mused that he shouldn't have been surprised. Children were sacred here, so any threat to them was handled with all seriousness. Knowing that his son was in good hands he marched up to the highest level of the temple where his multi-viewer was located. It was a marvel of engineering he'd created to avoid falling behind the rest of the world while he remained isolated in this place. It collected every news and media stream in the world and showcased everything in a 360 degree view. What was more, if he focused on an area of interest he could even begin remote hacks into government mainframes.

Once he entered the machine he focused the media streams on everything related to Latveria specifically. He took in their news, their entertainment, their private communications, and military broadband waves. What he beheld was much as he'd expected. His home country was a place of beauty that had sadly faded long ago with the advent of poverty and decay brought about by its horrible ruling Baron. A jumped up noble with delusions of grandeur that had later made himself a king. He'd cemented his hold on power by forming an alliance with the Russians which provided him weapons and supplies. With these assets the man had created a society where the needs of the rich were met with the blood, sweat, and pain of the peasants below them. Debtors' prisons lined the countryside and stocked the workforce with slave labor that toiled under the watchful eyes of the new king's soldiers. From what he could see, his country in his absence had become a land that would welcome the change Von Doom would bring.

He'd always planned to take control of Latveria, his ancestral homeland, and use it as his base of operations for any future endeavors, yet originally his projections were set for five years in the future. Five years of preparation, embedding agents amongst the enemy, building support before entering into an armed conflict. That would need to change now. His sudden induction into fatherhood had planted an immediate need in his mind that could not be ignored. A need to give his child everything he'd never had. He'd start with a throne.

By the morning he had a plan in mind, and was comfortable with the knowledge that Latveria would be his soon enough. He stopped first in his machine shop and triple timed the production of his Doombots. They were semi-sapient war machines programmed to follow his orders and his alone. Then he did the same with his weapon production and organized the militant monks into cadres to train his new recruits. Yes, everything was coming together nicely.

His next stop was the mystical channeling room where his new son was under observation by an increasingly stressed looking group of mystics. "Status update." He demanded once he'd reached their position.

Larin was wringing his hands as he answered, "Master, there is a malevolent spirit contained within the child's scar."

"My son is possessed!?"

"No, Master. I am afraid the child has somehow been made into a phylactery. A soul container. The spirit is merely contained within him, not controlling him."

"So what is our next move?"

"Obviously we must remove it. Having such a malevolent spirit inside a human body for any length of time can cause untold effects and damage. The longer it remains the worse the result. We have a Jar of Holding we can transfer it to, but as the father we must have your verbal permission to begin the spell."

"Do it."

At once eight monks began to harmonize in an eerie chant, the air between them becoming thick with concentrated magic and will. As their pitch increased in intensity that light coalesced over Harry's scar and before the Doctor's very eyes it stabbed into the bright red wound and the boy began to scream in pain. New to fatherhood as he was, it was still difficult for Victor not to intervene at that moment, but he managed to hold himself back; and a good thing he did, as mere moments later a thick black sludge began to rise out of the open wound. It pulsed, writhed, attempted to slither away to no effect, and eventually found itself forced into a small ball before being levitated into a nearby ceramic car. The moment the transfer was complete, another flash of light followed, and the lines of its lid disappeared from the object, making it virtually impossible to open by mortal means. It was done.

At once the monks hurried to wrap clean gauze around Harry's freshly bleeding head, and once that was done they bustled him into his father's arms where he calmed down immediately.

"Strange." Victor noted as the child cooed happily against the palm of one of his gauntlets, "He does not seem to mind the cold metal of my armor."

Larin smiled wisely from his position at the head of the others. "Young as he is, the boy recognizes the feel of his father. This is well."

"Yes. Yes, it is." Victor unsteadily rested the boy against his chest and held him close as his eyes began to droop and sleep claimed him. What an odd thing it was, that warm feeling that began to grow in his chest at such a simple act. Was this what his mother had felt all the times she held him and sang him to sleep? Running metal fingers through the boy's hair he once more addressed the gathered monks. "I've already set things in motion, but I want everyone ready to move out soon. We have work to do."

Two Weeks Later

It only took one week to perfectly map every single troop position the King had along with his strongholds, supply depots, and every movement of their Russian allies, but the rest of the time had been spent finishing rapid production of his weapons and doombots. Now, he was finally ready. The time had come to officially reveal Doctor Doom to the world. The man's only real regret about his reveal was that that ponce Reed Richards wouldn't get to bask in awe of his greatness and superiority as the insufferable man and his friends had apparently been exposed to cosmic radiation and were now all sequestered in an ICU.

Regardless, his plan was simple. Could he have just flown straight into the capitol and taken the King's head himself? Yes. However, he would only be replacing one tyrant with another in the eyes of his people. Had he still been planning on ruling alone he might not have minded such an eventuality, but Doom now intended to hand the throne over to his heir one day so he needed the people to love him as well as respect him. Thus the plan became to build a legend for himself, gather a true following, and lead his people to a glorious revolution with him at their head, making him their hero, savior, and the natural choice to take power. It was perfect. As he made to carry out his plan of course he left Harry at the temple. It wouldn't do to put the little one in unnecessary danger just yet.

To begin the legend he flew into the first debtor's prison he saw and landed in a hero stance right in the center of a crowd of black and white wearing peasants. They stared in shock and awe at the armored, masked, man that appeared from the sky, and as he drank in their surprise Doctor Doom walked through them all and approached the soldiers set to guard them. Each was smoking and laughing around a humvee at the edge of their assigned work area. They wouldn't be laughing for long.

Stomping his feet into the dirt and eliciting a sound like thunder as a result, he easily grasped all of their attention at once, watching as the action caused lit cigarettes to tumble from slackened lips. "Laugh not at the people you oppress, soldiers of Latveria." He intoned in a well rehearsed voice. "For the time of your reckoning is at hand. So swears Doctor Doom."

The first to respond was a man in a green military uniform with three officer's bars at his neck. "H-H-Hey! You j-just stay back, you hear me!" The man was clearly terrified but his companions were even worse.

Each wore the black and red combination that Doom had learned was attributed to embedded Russian allies. They at once leveled rifles at the newcomer, muttering about a 'possible mutant threat' and the 'devil'.

He only laughed beneath his metal mask. "Close, soldier, but I've seen the devil and believe me… Doom is something else altogether. Something far worse for you personally."

Not liking where this was going at all the officer raised a pistol and ordered "Fire! Kill it, whatever it is!" His comrades responded at once and the space between them all erupted in a cacophony of pistol and rifle fire. Behind Victor, the prisoners screamed and dove for cover, but he stood tall in the face of the assault, his magic easily creating a visible wall before him that blocked every bullet still in the air before him. When the weapons finally clicked to announce their ammunition had run out, he waited only long enough to ensure enough of the convicts were watching before waving his hand negligently and sending the deadly projectiles right back at the soldiers, tearing their frail bodies to pieces as he did.

"Fools." He proclaimed as he made to approach the corpses, stomping one steel boot onto the officer's head for good measure. "No weapon forged by mortal hands can touch Von Doom."

In spite of himself, Victor was surprised to hear an oddly familiar voice tremble out, "Von… Von Doom? I knew of a Victor Von Doom long, long, ago. He fought against the Baron's men before the Baron became our King." The speaker was old, lean in the face, yet Victor recognized him as one of those who had fought with his Roma clan before the Americans had recruited him.

Turning to face the gathered crowd fully he said, "I was once Victor Von Doom, and I have come back to my homeland for one purpose alone… to stain these hills with the blood of tyrants." He raised his hands to the gathered prisoners and with a burst of will and a chant of invocation he shattered the chains that held them in bondage. "Now go! Go and spread the news. The days of King Vladimir are soon coming to an end! So says Doctor Doom."

This process was repeated over a dozen more times as he liberated every debtor's prison in the country, freeing thousands in the process and no doubt wreaking havoc on the King's economy and social framework. The fool relied far too heavily on slave labor to ever sustain himself or his followers for long without it.

Those men would spread the news to their families and friends, but they wouldn't be fast enough for his tastes. Not by a long shot. They'd make avid recruits, but he needed his name spread far and wide in days, not weeks. Luckily he knew a people who were knowledgeable about every secret backroad and goat path in the country, who were used to traveling at speed, and who knew how to avoid the King's patrols like the backs of their hands. It was time to meet with his family once more.

It was not hard to track them down, not for one that was born on the roads they traveled each season, though he did wait for nightfall to add dramatic effect to his entrance as he literally emerged from the near-solid darkness of the forest. It was sheer irony that he found Boris standing as the outer guard that night. He had been his father's closest friend, and one of the only people he'd been able to rely on when first taking command of the clan.

"Boris?"

"Eh?" The man's hair had turned to full gray and as he squinted to make out the speaker his aged eyes grew wide at what he saw. "W-Who are you!?" The old fellow seemed just as flabbergasted as he was terrified that someone wearing armor like that could sneak up on him.

"The years have gone hard on you, Boris, but surely there have not been so many that you've forgotten my voice?"

Boris' squinted eyes grew round as dinner plates as he mumbled out, "M-Master Victor? It-It cannot be. What've ye become, lad?"

"What I needed to be. What you see before you is what I have made myself into. Something beyond a man. Do not try to understand it, Boris. Your mind is incapable of the higher thinking necessary. But I do expect you to continue to follow my orders."

"O-Of course, young master. What can I do?"

Say what you would about the superstitions of his family, Victor never needed to doubt their ability to follow his orders. He had the man gather the leaders of his clan in the center of the caravan and once they were all ready he told them of the road that lay before them. A road that would see their ragged gypsy tribe usurp the power from those who lorded it over them for generation upon generation. Questions of course came about as to how they could fight the King's greater numbers and his russian allies, but he stomped down dissent the moment it reared its head, reaffirmed his position as leader, and reassured them all that the weapons of his mind were more than capable of defeating those of lesser men. That, along with the scores of followers that were sure to join them, would allow them to turn the tide in their favor. He promised them that he would lead the people of Latveria in glorious revolution, and he would succeed no matter the obstacles arrayed against him.

That was the message he instructed them to carry. To every city, every town, every hamlet, to every ear that would listen they were to pass the message along.

"And what message would that be, Von Doom?" One of the listeners asked for clarification.

"That a new day is dawning for Latveria. That I, Doctor Doom, am bringing this new day to them. That those willing to fight against King Vladimir must join me."

"And why would these people listen to a bunch of Roma like us?" The same man wanted to know.

Victor eyed the disagreeable fellow and held out his hand. Within it was a small device that emitted a holographic image of himself clearly giving a speech that was momentarily muted. "Because you will be carrying these with holograms they project will show the work I have already begun, and with them the people will understand just what I have become, how to fight at my side, and that their freedom is now at hand.

Sadly this seemed not enough to assuage the man, who the people around him knew as Torvalt. Boris knew him as the fellow who had played the fiddle at Victor's parent's wedding. He stomped to his feet and marched right up to the would-be ruler. "Seems to me like you're looking to become king yourself, Von Doom. So I don't see how those people will be any more free under your rule."

"Torvalt!" Boris tried to stop the man, only to be interrupted by his master's raised gauntlet.

"Let the man speak, Boris."

And speak Torvalt did. "You leave us for years, then show up in this madman's outfit and you just expect us to help you raise an army? Why? Why would you come back, and why should we expect any better from you than Vladimir?" All around him the clan gasped. They'd all acknowledged Victor as their leader in the past, and to question the master of the clan in so public a fashion was just not done. Each of them were expecting a violent response to this disrespect as victor had shown in the past. Fire, brimstone, arcane lightning raining from the sky and hellfire brought up from the depths of the underworld itself… Except nothing happened. Doom merely stared the shorter man down from the depths of his mask, making more than one of the clan supremely nervous by his continued silence.

Finally Doom reached into his tabard, pulled free a separate hologram projector, and activated it in his palm. To the awed assemblage of Roma came the enlarged image of a toddler with black hair and glacier blue eyes tottering around a large bedchamber with a group of monks hovering around him to make sure he didn't bump into anything.

In the stunned silence that came about from the image Victor explained, "This is… my son, Harry. He recently came into my life, and now… I understand the actions of my own parents so much better. They both wanted more for their son, they wanted a better life than they had lived. My mother dove into the arcane arts because she thought the power she gained there would free us or at least deter the soldiers from attacking our camps any further. My father became a doctor and healed the sick of our country because he believed their goodwill would keep us safe and fed. Each sought to make the world a better place in some regard for those that would follow. Becoming a father has done the same for me. I desire a homeland for my son, and yes that includes a crown and a throne, but in providing those things for him I will also create a land of opportunity and plenty for the rest of you as well." The hologram disappeared and he leaned down to stare directly into his challenger's eyes. "Is that reason enough for why you should fall in line, Torvalt?"

"Aye, I'd say so." The old fiddler still wasn't thrilled, but going to war for family was something he could understand rightly enough and get behind without too much issue. "You heard the Master, lads! Get on your horses!"

Within days, riders had made their way throughout the land spreading the messages and holograms as they'd been directed. And in the secrecy of an abandoned village long thought to be haunted by the ghost of Cynthia Von Doom, Victor's army began to gather itself together and grow as they awaited the orders of their savior. Men, women, children, families of those that had been freed from the debtor's prisons, they came in the thousands, and then the tens of thousands, just as the warlock had predicted. One individual that came, however, was not one that he had expected…

In the bowels of the village's abandoned castle Victor was putting the finishing touches on one of his specialized doombots when he felt a warm presence enter the chamber. It was one that he had not known for a long time.

"Is that really you, Victor?"

He had to turn and look with his own eyes to be sure, and when he did he was not disappointed as the haunting beauty of his first love's face became clear to his gaze. "Valeria, what are you doing here? I ordered all the noncombatants to retreat to the forest until the fighting is done."

The dark haired woman stepped into his personal space and gazed with interest at the mask he wore and the armor that dominated his body. She found all of the little carved runes to be incredibly fascinating. "I am not yet one of your subjects, Victor. My actions and decisions are still mine to determine. After that night in the caravan I tried to find you, to speak to you, but you disappeared."

"I… had other arrangements to make. This war has many moving parts that require my attention." In spite of himself, Doom found he was on the backfoot in this moment. Valeria always had a way of surprising him when she wanted to. The last time had been when he'd begged her to come with him to America. The surprise had been her desire to stay behind.

"Yes, I imagine you do." Her hand reached up and touched the metal covering his cheek. "Why do you hide your face? Is it the scars you wrote about in your last letter?"

"Yes… and no." He sighed, "The people would likely be less thrilled to follow a savior so obviously scarred already. It would show weakness. Also…"

"Your nightmares?" The woman nodded with understanding. That annoying, beautiful, understanding that had compelled him to stay in regular correspondence with her even after she'd refused to accompany him into the greater world. "You still have them?"

"Not anymore. The armor has wards that prevent the hell dimension from reaching my mind, and with it Mephisto."

"This is good, though I do not think hiding behind the suit at all times is wise. What would your son think?" A nervous look came into her gaze then. "It is true, is it not, that he is your child? What of the mother?"

Ah, so that was what this was about. Reaching out to take her hands he explained, "The boy is mine, Valeria, but his mother has sadly passed from this world."

"What happened to her?"

"She died protecting him from a madman."

"Then she experienced an honorable end and I shall pray for her." Valeria squeezed his fingers in her own. "Victor, you go to war tomorrow. I know that I cannot accompany you, and I just… if something should happen I needed to tell you… to make you understand-"

"Why didn't you come with me?" Even after all this time Victor felt the wound clawing at his heart as he waited on the answer.

"Because I saw the truth of your heart, even if you could not. You need this land, Victor. It is as much a part of you as your desire for greater power. I feared that if I left with you, you'd lose your final tie to Latveria and never return." Her hands left his own to rest on his chest. "But I never stopped loving you, even if you did me." She looked down, "The mother of your child must have been quite the woman."

"She was… a very good friend. However, a friend was all she was." Victor grudgingly offered before cupping her chin to force her to look back at him. "My heart has always been yours, Valeria, but what I am now…"

"I do not care about the scars."

"That is not it." The man groaned as he tried to figure out how to put his feelings into words. How was this happening? He'd cut himself off from feelings such as these entirely until he'd met his son and they'd all come soaring back in through the floodgates. Love was never supposed to factor into his life again. "I am not a good man, Valeria. Yes, I work to free this land, but it is not out of altruistic duty. I plan to use it, rule it, and then give it to my son. More than that, I crave greater power. I crave it like nothing else you can imagine and I will do practically anything to achieve it. I will never be a man that retires after a day of work to put his feet up by the fire and hold his wife close. I will be one that retires to his study and plots a dozen different ways to topple empires, create machines great enough to destroy entire planets, and formulate spells to destroy demons. I use people and I don't feel regret. I sacrifice pawns and don't bat an eye. I-" He stopped as Valeria placed a finger over the opening in his mask meant to represent his mouth.

"All of these things and more I already know, Victor. Did you think I was exaggerating when I said that I knew your heart. You have it in you to be a great leader of men. I have always known it, and now, this man your son has made you, the potential is growing. What care I if you dominate others, so long as you leave them in a better place than when you found them when you are done with them."

"That does not make sense."

"Does it not? Then answer me this. What calls to you more, dominating others for the sake of dominating them? Or dominating them because you see their current circumstances as inefficient and wasteful and you know you could lead them better?" The man's silence spoke for him.

"What does this mean, Valeria? What are you trying to tell me?"

She smiled and replied, "My heart has been yours since we were children together, Victor, and that has not changed. I believe that you need me now, just as you need your son, to stand by your side, to curb your more destructive tendencies, and to help you rule well. You seek greatness, efficiency, and dominance, not tyranny."

Victor could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Knowing everything you do, and what I look like beneath this mask, you would still desire me?"

"Always. And if this could be our last night together before the war starts, then I needed to let you know that."

"Valeria I… I don't know how much of my heart remains in this cold chest of mine, but what little there is is still yours." He leaned his forehead to rest against her own. "I do not deserve you. Your light, your love, your compassion. It is wasted on one such as I."

"Let me decide what is wasted on who, my love."

"Harry will always be my priority."

"As he should be." Valeria's arms wrapped tight around his shoulders as she whispered in his ear, "From this moment on he shall be mine as well. I always wanted to be a mother."