Nico took in his surroundings. The heavy raindrops the were beating on the window. The cold wall pressed against his shoulder. The old Christmas lights that had been up for two weeks after the holiday they were put up for; far too long in his opinion. His nieces and nephews chatting as they watched a movie. They celebrated Arrow's return from the hospital. It was nice to hear happy voices in the home again. It hadn't been right for his brother's home to feel cold as it had for the last few weeks.

His eyes turned to the window, back to staring at the outside, looking for any figure moving towards them. That was his role, the guardian that stood waiting, watching, protecting. The silent sentinel that never failed a mission. It wasn't always his place, but for now this was his role. Christin would say different, but his baby brother, for all he had gotten right over all these years, he was wrong about Nico's current role.

Nico played any part he was given. In his early life, he played the role of the child, to play and laugh, as well as the role of a student, to learn and prosper. Youth, meant being the light of someone else's life. Then came his adulthood, a warrior, someone who would lay down his life for the others. He knew he would play all those, part of the course for a Clan Leader's child. Eventually he donned the role of a lover, and then husband and finally father. A bright future was ahead of him they had said.

Then things changed.

Mother had always said to him that in her dreams, he was veiled with shadow. When youth was still his Nico had doubted her words. He had his love, his family, the respect of his people, and the chance to be clan leader. It was perfect. It felt like there was no darkness that could extinguished his light. Until that one moment, that he didn't see coming. His light was snuffed out.

Contrary to what some might believe, that one moment hadn't been when his father had announced that the title of Clan leader would go to Christin. Sure, at first it had stung a bit, but over time Nico understood his father's decision. As children Nico and Christin could've been considered typical, normal. Well, normal for mutants anyway. They played, they learned, they fought in training and with each other. It wasn't until they were older that the differences between them showed. Nico grew more stoic, more serious, the spark of childhood faded in him. While Christin…Christin never lost that.

Nico snorted. His little brother had always been sort of an anomaly in the family. For centuries, their people's clan leader bloodline always had the reputation of a strict stoic family. Kind to their people, but set in their ways. They took everything seriously, never once cracking so much of a smile when there was work to be done. His father had been that way. His mother, although she had softened in the recent years, was like that. He was like that. However, Christin, while never one to shirk his duties, he still smiled and joked like a child. Christin remained warm and loving even after all he had lost. His little brother and later Alice were what the clan needed to move forward. People who would care about their citizens' ever-changing needs more than up holding tradition. Something Nico would've never been able to do.

Dull brown eyes, flicked from the window to the kitchen. Sitting at the bar, was his newest charge. The young man, born decades before himself, was staring intently at the book in front of his face. Nico raised a brow at the sight of him. The telepath had played teacher before, far too many times. Many children who were all the same; each with a sad story of their own, and they all shared the same fate in the end.

James was an interesting case. Trapped out of time, and all alone, the lad had shown remarkable grace with all that had change around him. Nico had known a number of people who were displaced for far less amount of time, but weren't nearly as alright. The boy was strong. He had potential. Oddly. Nico could see the reason why Christin asked him to train Barnes. He would be a great asset.

If he succeeded.

Nico sighed. If. That was the right word for James's situation. So, few before the lad had succeeded in what he was trying to accomplish, and they didn't have to worry about weakened blood. Frankly, Nico didn't know what Christin was thinking when he allowed James to take part in this ritual. Didn't his little brother care for the boy?

Now that his niece had come up to speak with James, and the lad looked up with those piercing almost familiar blue eyes, Nico looked away. By the Lost Queen, those eyes. They looked so much like…Nico shook his head. James was not Micha. Nico needed to keep telling himself that. They were not the same, and he needed to get that through his thick skull. Before he started to get attached. Before it would be too late.


The sun burned down from above, but the air around him was cold. Stretched out before him, was a training ground. Soft dirt, made rich from the blood spilt here, coated the arena floor. Empty rows of bare seats formed the rounded walls. There was no roof. Merely a large web of golden braided beams overhead, like an old, worn fishermen's net. From one of the four entrances he watched the new recruits exiting the tunnel and stepping onto the field.

It wasn't an impressive bunch at first glance. A diverse group; children of all colors, shapes and sizes. The only thing they shared being their age. Each of them having a tender fourteen years of experience lived. Only one year off of being adult, ready to move on and let go of their childhoods.

"They don't look like much," His eldest niece spoke.

Nico looked to his right, dark eyes staring at the young woman next to him. Jenette had a hard judging glare on her face. One that mimicked his own expression with such similarity that if it wasn't for the obvious genetic differences, they could be mistaken for the same person.

"Don't let their appearance fool you, even the smallest of seeds can become the strongest of oaks," Nico stated, "All they need is a strong gardener."

"You're certain of that?" Jenette said, no one but Nico could hear the hidden tremble in her voice. She was nervous.

"All you can do is train them. If they don't listen, it's their decision and demise. What was it I told you?"

"Remain like a tree, plant yourself and don't let any storm make you fall. Allow them to climb you to eat your fruit, but they need to figure out how to do so themselves."

"And if they fall?"

"Let them pick themselves up."

Nico nodded, "You can't be soft on them Jenette. If they don't survive in here. Then they have no chance out there."

Jenette nodded, and steeled herself before walking onto the field to greet her first clutch of students.

Nico looked on with some form of pride. Out of all his nieces and nephews, he had felt the strongest connection to Jenette. The scarred girl had always been similar to himself. Coarse, rough, but strong; a force to be reckoned with. Much like how he had been at her age. For the passed six years he had watched this girl grow up into a warrior of a woman, who's pain fueled her passion for battle and bloodlust. Now she was following in his footsteps. Nico never had a daughter of his own, but Jenette had become the closest thing to one he would ever have. There was an almost hint of a smile on his face as he watched her lead the class.

"Well, well, well," Spoke a familiar voice coming up on his right.

Nico turned his gaze towards the voice. A young man, maybe twenty years his junior, coming up to him. Skin snow pale, and a long black braid slung over his shoulder. He had a thin face with a pointed chin attached to it, with a pair of deep blue eyes that appeared to almost be glowing. Blue to cyan almost scale like markings adorning his sharp cheek bones and forehead, though most of them were covered by his navy mask. His bottom lip bore two black rings that pierced through his flesh.

"Is it finally happening, the great Admiral Nico, the Winter Warrior, is passing on his legacy to his niece?" The young man spoke in a voice that was a smooth as century old wine.

"Liune," Nico greeted the captain of the palace guard, and his own former student, "What is your reason for being here?"

"Straight to the point as always," Liune grumbled to himself before addressing Nico again, "I was here to evaluate the new recruits, you can imagine my surprise when I see not you but your niece leading assassination 101."

Liune was not unjustified in his surprise. Nico had always been an instructor for the students going into the bloodier lines of work. However, that didn't mean he was the only instructor. In fact, it was the normality to have different instructors throughout childhood education.

Mutant education started whenever it was possible to, but the average age was three years old. Then schooling lasted until the age of fifteen when the child was old enough to earn their mask. The first five years was spent on the first three languages (chosen tongue, their native tongue and English. Though if English was their native language, then the child would study a second language), mathematics (basic number work to easy algebra), power control and body strengthening.

The next four years, usually the ages eight to twelve, offered a more variety of choice. History, science, and other subjects are introduced along with the beginning of combat training in order to help narrow down the children's interests and talents. Preparing the children for the final three years of their education.

Those final three years are spent readying for both their futures and their masking ceremony. The combat training is split into specialty classes rather then just general self-defense, preparing them for the struggle of the masking trial. Where they would face off their instructor, in trial by combat. If they managed to either defeat or tie with their masters then they were given their masks and fully accepted into the clan. The other lessons they had would end in a final exam. If passed then they would be inducted into the career they had been studying for.

What happened to the youth after that was up to them.

Nico tried not to roll his eyes, at Liune's statment, "You're point being?"

"Well, this isn't really how I imagined you announcing your retirement," Liune chuckled.

"I am not retiring. I merely have other matters to tend to for the next year," Nico said.

"Other matters?" Liune raised a brow.

"Clan Leader Striker has given me an assignment of the up-most importance."

"So, the rumors? Are they true? Will there be an outsider initiation trial within a year's time?"

"Yes, there shall."

"What excitement, it has been many years since one has attempted it. It will be good for the troop's moral. Watching a fool's blood spilt in vain. So, who is it?"

"James Barnes."

Disbelief painted Liune's face, "As in the boy found frozen up north? Truly?"

Nico nodded, "Do you doubt my words?"

"No, of course not. It's just I thought that the lad would return to his own world by now."

"His own world?"

"The outside world, with his own kind. The boy has not a drop of mutant blood in his body."

"You forget my old pupal, his world died seventy years ago. The outside would be just as confusing and foreign to him as our world is. Maybe even more unkind."

"Is this even allowed?"

"There is no law in the Mask Code that states an un-gifted can't take the outsider trials, and the Counseling has already voted in the boy's favor."

"I take it Lady Forecasta had a hand in that decision?"

"According to those in the meeting, she did."

"Well, I hope everything works out for you. Training one with weakened blood," Liune shook his head, "Sad that the boy would hand himself over to death's grasp, so soon after slipping out of her fingers."


A/N:

Wooohoooo! We have hit a milestone people! 30 chapters, and over 100,000 words! *Blows party horn*

Special thanks to any long-time viewers who had liked and commented/reviewed, you are the reason I keep going.

Once more, I am sorry for updates slowing. I have started a new education system recently. Juggling that and a job, along with this has been hard.

By the way, is it alright for me to expand on the POVs, or do you want me to keep it to the original three?