Chapter Text
Emma was in the mining town, heavily guarded, wrapped in furs. Life was rough here, compared to the capital, and Emma made a charity trip once in the moon cycle. Christian was with her today, scarily sober, grey skin under his eyes.
A familiar frustration ran through Emma, but it wasn’t hers. She looked to Christian but, although he was pained and anxious, the frustration had not initiated with him. Emma refined her focus on the emotion and almost giggled when she realised what she was picking up.
Someone was arguing with Adrienne. Emma couldn’t read Adrienne but she could read the whirlwind of anger infused with longing from someone facing off with her. No wonder the feeling was familiar, Emma’s relationship with her older sister had been strained since they were tiny and fractured irrevocably the day Adrienne outed Christian. Despite her fury at Adrienne’s heartlessness, she had never quite buried all her hope that they could reconcile, especially when she saw Alex and Scott together.
“Darling,” she said casually to her brother, “will you take the supplies to the school house? I have a small matter to look into.”
He raised his eyebrow at her but nodded, leading the cart to the South of the town’s main street. Emma watched him for a few seconds and then turned East on her Summerland leather boot heel, followed faithfully by two of the palace guards. The mental output was coming from a small but sturdy house. Emma mimed ‘silence’ and ‘stay put’ to the guards and crept closer.
There was a deep and smooth male voice, attempting to cajole Adrienne to give up the throne and run away with him. Emma was again grateful her telepathy and Adrienne’s psychometry cancelled each other out, as she couldn’t keep her shock off her face, let alone walled up in her head.
“I love you, woman,” the man said, “and you love me. Can you really decide to live without me?”
“I’ll have to,” Adrienne replied. Emma could picture her gritting her teeth and lifting her chin.
“Imagine it. I can provide. We can be everything to each other. Hold the image in your head and come with me to create it,” Adrienne’s lover begged.
‘Good luck with that lover boy,’ thought Emma. ‘Adrienne has always put power and accomplishment over love.’
“I can’t,” Adrienne muttered, “When Daddy found out about Christian having a male lover, he cast him out rather than accept it, and when Christian moved with Hans to Summer rather than give into Daddy’s demands, Daddy had Hans framed for assault and deported from Genosha. We wouldn’t be safe.”
Then Emma was caught within the conflict between the power-hungry part of her heart and the part that still held compassion. The thought of Christian weeping into Emma’s pillows was an effective knife to the throat of Emma’s compassion, and exposing Adrienne would feel so very sweet. But the pleading note in Adrienne’s voice when she said, ‘we wouldn’t be safe’ kept trilling in Emma’s mind. Her Princess face was pulled carefully into place while she distributed supplies, and even then Christian rounded on her the instant they were in the carriage to journey home.
“What are you up to, little sister?” He was smirking, thinking it was a prank or surprise, but his dear face paled and his hands began to shake as the overheard conversation spilled out of Emma. “The punishment matches the crime,” was all he said, before turning to face the rolling scenery.
XXX
The young Genoshian royals met at the Teppeth Inn, the largest of the public houses at the crossroads town, padding into a private lounge with their hoods up. Emma and Christian were already there when Alex begrudgingly followed his younger brother through the heavy wood door. Christian had already ordered and served himself fruit wine. Emma had tinkered with the Inn staff’s heads and they were very proud to be serving a group whom they perceived as famous actors. Alex accepted a glass so he had something to do with his hands; though he could not still his foot from tapping against his chair leg. The Ierocis King walked in next and Alex was pouring him some wine when the door opened again and Charles walked in with Munoz.
On some level, Alex could appreciate the miracle of Charles on his feet, could hear Emma lose her hard won mask and shriek like a child; most of him, though, was trying to deny how fast his heart was going, how welcome Armando’s eyes on him were. He had risen and was standing in front of Armando before he knew what he was about. Before he could complete the jerky movement his hand was making towards Armando’s, Scott was ushering them all into seats around a dining table.
“To save time,” declared Emma, “I will give you as much knowledge as Charles and I have gathered head to head.”
And Alex saw Adrienne and a rough dressed man with twin, despairing frowns, saw Scott and Emma holding hands and grinning, saw Charles and Erik transformed and bound at the lake edge and saw Armando determined, and twisting, in those long, distracting fingers, the scarf Alex had given him. They not only saw these scenes but understood layers of them, felt all the intention and avidity behind the actions, saw them connect and branch out, each affecting the others, a spider web and each of them struggling flies upon it.
“We can solve this,” said Erik, ever the strategist, and Charles sent him a burning, affectionate smile.
“You still want me?” Alex asked, not daring to look up from the tabletop, but what had he to hide after that thorough expozé? Everyone here would know to whom he directed his incredulous question.
“Of course,” Armando assured him. “Alex, there is no one like you. I will not give you up at the first difficulty.” And, Alex would never not melt when swathed in that voice. He pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes and pretended he wasn’t crying, and everyone at the table pretended right along with him.
Christian ordered food and Erik began to devise their next steps. Emma swapped places with Armando ostensibly so she could speak to Charles, and Armando slipped into the chair next to Alex and waited for Alex to pull himself together.
“I’ve the impression Adrienne would leave with this man if she thought she could be safe,” Erik observed.
Emma nodded. “Daddy will destroy her if she tries to live in anywhere he can reach, which is all Genosha and every country we trade or treaty with.”
“What if I found them diplomatic positions in Dutukana?” Armando suggested. “No one can touch a diplomat without seriously harming their own trustworthiness.”
“That could work,” said Emma, sitting up very straight.
“Adrienne might thaw in Dutukana,” muttered Alex. His eyes popped open as he gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry. That was… terribly inappropriate. I’ll suggest the option of diplomacy as a solution to her when I break off the engagement.”
“I thought as the only current Genosha council member here, it would fall to me,” Erik interjected.
“It’s my responsibility. I agreed to marry her,” Alex insisted, retreating back beheld his usual restrained facade.
“She’s my sister,” Emma said softly.
The door flung open. Shaw strode in arrogantly, framed in crackling red magic. “How did you escape last time?” he demanded of Erik. “Your powers are still bound; I can feel my magic intact. I’ve given myself to Ierocis Zeme for decades as your advisor, and your father and grandfather’s before you, and I’ve more power than all of your tepid family put together. And what have you done with your monarchy? Peace on the peninsula? Failure to use your powers to invade? Industry and social measures and sharing wealth amongst the useless unpowered?” At this Shaw’s eyes bulged and he threw a fist towards the ceiling. There was a loud clap and a some dust drifted downwards from a new crack in the plaster.
Charles stood and rushed forward defensively.
“Our precious Prince of Hearts is walking?” Shaw sneered. “Too late to enjoy his mobility, I’m taking him from you little Erik.”
And then everything happened jumbled and overlapping and interlocking.
Erik entreated, “No, don’t Shaw. Have the Kingdom, leave my Charles,” while catching Charles around the waist. Charles said, “Yes, fine. I’ll go if it’ll keep Ierocis safe.” Then shrugged Erik off and admonished, “You can’t Erik.” Shaw conjured his visible, red magic and flung it toward Charles like a whip. Alex knocked back his chair, bands of lightning flaring around his chest in pace with his temper. Erik cried out, “No!” but the warning was too late. Alex sent a blast at the traitor mage.
Shaw’s face was malicious and triumphant as he absorbed the energy and sent it back. Alex instantaneously dismissed several options; deflect, leap, freeze, fire back. But he was knocked to the floor and trapped under something. ‘Armando,’ Alex recognised quickly, ‘I’m under Armando.’ Shaw was laughing and it made Alex bristle. He began to push at Armando to move him.
Alex froze, horrified and trapped, as Shaw gathered another ball of magical energy and shot it towards the targets of his rage.
But before it could lash Charles, the table tipped and shielded him, its contents smashing on the floor and the wood top shrieking against its iron braces as it scorched under the impact of the magic. The room began to crumble, as nails wrenched themselves out of their positions in mantles and chairs and floor boards, and flew at Shaw’s astonished face. He went down under the hail of them and Alex struggled again, only hearing a moan and smelling blood. He could see Erik though, fury lighting him until it hurt to look but Alex was hopelessly compelled to. A dagger rose untouched from Erik’s boot and arched toward the place Shaw fell in two separate, impossible movements, impossible except that many of the Ierocis cousins could make metal obey them in such a way. There was a sickening thunk and Erik’s shoulders slumped.
“Erik,” pleaded Charles. Erik turned and wrapped around him tight as a cocoon.
“Armando?” Alex shook the shoulder of Armando’s stiff coat. The warm feeling in Alex’s chest chilled instantly as Armando grunted. “By the thunder, ‘Mando, what’s wrong.” Alex scrambled out from under Armando’s tall body, panicking, air sludging into his lungs like mud.
Armando landed hard on his back as Alex’s hands jerked away from the heat roaring off him. Armando’s skin was turning to black ash, ravines skittering across it to reveal glowing red magic. His eyes were wide and reflecting desperation and a clear goodbye.
“Armando! Fight it!” Alex screamed. “Adapt, damnit, come back.”
Scott clutched Alex by the shoulders in support and to prevent him from burning himself on Armando’s skin. Emma switched into her diamond form and held Armando’s hand. He calmed, gripping her hand back. His eyes were still focussed on Alex but they began to lose the edge of panic, although it was clear he was still in pain.
“That’s it, ‘Mando, please.”
And he did seem to be winning the fight against the refracted magic. He was struggling and gasping but cooling slowly and the red cracks were sealing over.
When Armando was no longer blazing to the touch, Alex attempted to embrace him without jostling. The others backed away and pretended not to notice their usually obdurate companion clinging to someone who was not his fiancé, with naked love and relief on his countenance.
Charles was whispering to Erik, “You must have broken the curse Erik. How did we interpret that wrongly?”
“Your grace,” said Scott, his arm sheltering Emma's shoulders, “could you not have just used the dagger first? Did you have to destroy the parlour?”
The King of Ierocis Zeme blushed. “I panicked,” he said.
XXX
With Armando’s health and Shaw’s corpse to take care of, the discussion over who should talk to Adrienne was nearly forgotten. Christian knocked on his sister’s bedroom door, sober and calm, the next day.
She looked at him suspiciously and nodded to a settee. He sank down onto it and watched her curiously while she took her own seat.
“What can I do for you, Christian?” she asked, her social mask firmly fitted.
“May I be completely honest?” he asked, leaning toward her. He saw her clutch her skirt just slightly and then release it deliberately.
“Of course.”
“Sister, I need you to listen until I am ready for you to respond, and you will want to interject. Please do not.”
She nodded.
“I know about the mine foreman, and my question, when it is time for you to answer it, will be: what do you want? But first I want you to hear all of your options.”
He began to explain Alex and Armando, the possibility of a safe home in Dutukana, and, after carefully noting her reactions, explained about Emma wanting to marry Scott and her eagerness to take responsibility in Snawr.
“I have no interest in anything now, past inventing new mixes for Valstiche and creating new adventures in my bed. But these others, Adi, they are smart and committed and invested in this peninsula, and in each other. If King Erik, Prince Charles, Alex, and Emma all put their combined efforts into Genosha, you do not have to be concerned with its future. You will not be abandoning your duties.
“Adi, what do you want?”
“I want to stop being forced to suck up to Daddy when there is no guarantee who he will choose to succeed him. I want to be with Steven. I want to be important. I want you to have your boyfriend back.” She had a runnel of tears down each cheek as she finished speaking and a blazing gleam in her eyes.
Christian laughed and the laughter contained no humour and much derision. He stood, and patted her on the knee. “If that is what you really want, sister, we can manage three of those wishes.”
He left her to her regrets and her hopes.
XXX
Evangeline Whedon, in human form, had long black hair and a straight nose. Her mien was haughty but with an underlying amusement. Charles thought Erik looked like that sometimes. He took a knee. Erik didn’t, but he did bow, curt and shallow. She was clearly delighted by the display of respect; although her facial muscles didn’t actually seem to alter, something lit up in her and she inclined her head.
Charles spoke in Old Genoshian. He had no telepathy, no hints to her inclinations from her fixed mask, had no way of knowing how welcome their visit to her mountaintop lair would be. He was faithfully reproducing the etiquette formula which had been drummed into him as a child, when the dragon interrupted.
“What has happened to your powers, young Prince?”
Charles explained.
Vange tilted her head. “Your powers,” she said with barely concealed fury, “were not a curse. It was a gift I’ve been sprinkling in the noble families for generations. It only takes rarely. Nothing in your family for years, your Grace, as all the Lehnsherr Clan are so full of that matching hereditary magnetism. Two of my Snow Princesses have manifested in this generation, but not their brother. But you, princeling, with you it took. You are the only male royal to take to the dragonline.”
“I don’t understand,” Erik said, “Charles is dragon?”
“No. He has dragon magic.”
“Why would you share your magic?” Charles asked with an assessing tilt to his head.
“Let us drink,” said Vange, “and sit. There is much of this story to be told on both sides.”
She led them to a lovely sitting room. There were seat carved from stone and outcrops of smoothed rock here and there to rest things on and small alcoves in the walls supporting lamps or displaying treasure. When she served them, Charles took a seat but Erik stood, restless.
“This is fantastic,” said Charles of his drink.
Vange winked at him, “Fire Valstiche, spice seed liquor and the juice of oranges from abroad.” She sat on her window seat, back lit by the waning sun. “What happened?” she asked.
Charles leaned forward, detailed their whole story, the curses and their hesitation to be together because of the succession issues, how the curses broke and Erik’s determination to repair things.
Vange smiled, so gently she appeared completely human, no dragon shadow in the angles of her face. “I love a good love story,” she said. “I’m creating my own. I want a family. You are the first male to completely take to the magic I gave each noble pregnancy, which means, and clamp yourself down now warrior King, Prince Charles is perfect for me to mate with.” She threw up a hand. “Now now, I have no desire to break you up, but this could work out for everyone. King Erik wanted his power back, that has occurred. Prince Charles wants his powers back. You both wish to be together and yet have stable, happy kingdoms in the form of powerful offspring from your bloodlines. I want to be impregnated by Charles.”
Charles was horribly red and Erik ceased pacing to clutch at his shoulder.
“I need Charles to have his power intact when we reproduce so that the baby is more likely to be dragon, that is why I have shared my magic so that our magics will be compatible. I will grant those powers back should you agree. In addition, I will give you some vital information to secure Corazon’s family line, and I suggest,” she paused to assess how she was being received, “the way to secure the Ierocis line, is for Erik to mate with me too.”
By now Charles was very white and Erik’s teeth could be heard grinding.
“Think your Grace, your Highness, I’ll lay multiple eggs and, once hatched, I will keep any of the dragon line and you will have an instant and strong family of your own bloodlines in the remaining children.”
“A few points,” said Charles, only slightly shakily. “Corazon is a long way from accepting changeling bastards in their leadership, especially with the current conservative triumvirate in charge. Will your non-dragon children age at our rate or yours? And, can you fertilise from two different sources in one pregnancy?”
“So smart,” mused Vange proudly. “This upcoming generation of leadership in Genosha will be outstanding. It’s an intriguing combination you make. There’s your progression in industry, your Grace, and your brains organising higher education, your Highness. I adore that fabulous Princess Emma, if I were you, I’d place her in charge of the younger children. And, I know you don’t want to hear this Prince Charles but, Lady Darkholme could be our greatest military leader in generations. Yes, this is the perfect time for me to have my children.
“I won’t be pregnant, I will be gravid. Each clutch of eggs will have one father but we can mate all at once and I can store sperm inside me and fertilise a new clutch without you for a number of years to come. Dragon line babies will age like me. Non-dragons will age slightly slower than you and they will also be stronger, healthier and very likely to have some special magic. They will be obviously yours, I am an almost exact visual copy of my late human parent. Any offspring we produce would not be the answer for Corazon, I agree, but… I know where to find your sister.”
“I don’t have a sister,” protested Charles.
“You have a twin. Doesn’t he King Erik?”
“No, he had a twin. She… Cassandra didn’t survive,” Erik spat.
“I can assure you she is alive. Do you need time to think this over? I can host you in my guest rooms overnight. I can have a meal cooked for you shortly. You would be most welcome to spend the night and discuss it between yourselves.”
“I would very much appreciate a meal, Dragon Protector,” Charles said. Vange made them new drinks. Charles said, “Thank you.” His politeness was bone-deep as marrow.
“Will you allow Charles and I some time to talk privately?” Erik asked Vange.
“Yes, your Grace, gladly. I will prepare a room, in case you stay, and some refreshment.” She swept from the room, garments floating out like smoke tendrils behind her.
“Charles,” said Erik, around gritted teeth. “I want you to do it and get your powers back.”
“No. I don’t care for them enough for that. What if I can’t? Or what if I can? We couldn’t avoid the impact that would have on us. We’ve only just found our way to each other, what if..? I can’t… can’t risk it.”
“You hesitated.”
“Not about the powers, I chose you over them already, but… could I really have a sister?”
“I don’t know. How could you? An entire country and my personal memory says one thing and the Dragon Protector says another.”
“What was she like?”
Erik picked up Charles’ hand. “She was a tiny baby. I thought you were tiny but she was even more so. And pale,” he waved a hand at Charles’ raised eyebrow, “yes, even more pale than you. She hardly had any hair, but the fuzzy bits that were growing were more red than yours, and her eyes were… more cloudy? Not as clear, anyway. You’ve always looked at me and into me. But, she really looked like you, almost exact. Sorry, that’s all I remember, she was never… precious to me as you are.”
Vange fetched them for a meal, the delicious food unappreciated due to the tension at the table, and afterwards she showed them to a bed chamber. It was, as all the lair was, carved from the mountain. The bed was a smooth stone platform but with so many mattresses, furs and quilts it might as well have been made from piles of duckling down.
They talked for hours, looping back to the same arguments, until Charles said, “I need to think. You should rest.” He sat on the bed with his hand on the back of Erik’s neck until the King was asleep.
He walked silently through the lair, out of politeness rather than out of any possibility Vange wouldn’t know exactly where he was in her own sanctuary. He found a sitting room with a fireplace and sat at the window looking out into the shadows cast by the luminous moon.
In the end, the solution came subtly in the calm, cool of dawn, certainty rising in Charles like the gentle pink of sunrise. Erik’s curse had been broken by true love, not the declaration of it but by an action that proved it. If Charles’ powers weren’t a curse, then the only one who could have taken them away was himself. He had snuffed his magic out in a moment of determination, by sheer force of belief.
Or, was it possible to extinguish magic? Shaw had only been capable of containing Erik’s powers, not end them altogether. Perhaps Charles had buried his magic, and nothing more. He reached out for the familiar comfort of Erik’s mind, could read him dreaming in breathtakingly fast images, and remained in Erik’s thought space, breathing in and out with him for a while.
When he finally brought his attention back to the stone sitting room, his legs would no longer obey his mental commands.
Vange entered the room and smiled. -Welcome back to magic, my Prince. I would be honoured to train you, to develop your powers more fully. I’m sure Jean Grey will be happy to do so also.
-Thank you. I will train with you Dragon Protector. I do not need to hide my gifts anymore.
“I’m glad,” she said. “And have you thought about my other proposition?”
“I don’t want to lie with anyone who isn’t Erik. But I do wish you could have what you want and I do want to find my sister.”
Vange laughed. It was a gruff bark which reminded Charles of the hunting hounds when they’d caught a scent.
“Princeling,” she said, fondly, “You don’t need to have intercourse with me. Conception is a miracle and a miracle is a powerful mix of science and magic and faith. I can create miracles in the abstract or in the physical world. This one is a big one, and I will need to borrow magic from Jean Grey, but it can be done without sexual contact. It’s not as much fun that way though.” She laughed again as Charles shivered. He considered all the information, analysing both the logistics and the slightly off kilter way it made him feel. It seemed to be a very practical solution but there were very possessive emotions being stirred up in Charles as he thought it through.
“I will still think of the dragon babies as mine,” admitted Charles, swallowing, “even though I… agree to let you raise them. Of course, you are best for that job, I know nothing of being a dragon.”
“You can visit with your hatchlings, gentle prince. You may need to teach and influence them anyway. Even if they are not in line for a throne, they may still, as adults, wish to reside in your courts instead of estranged with me on my mountain.” Vange’s face blazed in the last, burning orange, light of the sunrise. She smiled at Charles, and he had never seen her look so young. “Besides, your Highness,” she admitted, “I enjoy your company. I hear both yourself and his Grace play chess?”
Charles laughed, light enough in his heart to float, though stranded on the stone bench with his unresponsive legs. “Something tells me you would be a tricky sort of opponent. I am very much looking forward to further visits now.”
“Would you allow me to carry you inside, Charles?”
He smiled at the Dragon Protector. “Yes,” he agreed, “I would be pleased to accept aid from a friend.”
She carried him in arms that should have snapped under his weight, setting him at a table. It was laid with boiled eggs, fried fish, crusty bread and a tangy green relish. Charles began to eat while she poured out the tea.
“Would you like to wake his Grace?” she queried.
“Of course, Dragon Protector,” said Charles. He spoke gently into Erik’s head, -Erik love, I have them back. Come to breakfast when you can.
Charles couldn’t help but laugh in surprise when Erik appeared shortly afterwards, his waistcoat buttoned up wrong and his sleeves hanging open at his wrists. He bent over Charles and pressed an urgent kiss in his hair.
“I’m so proud of you,” Erik whispered.
Charles laughed. “I don’t think I deserve quite the praise you’re offering. There are some things you don’t know; the resolution was much more easily achieved than we thought.”
“Will you eat while we talk, your Grace?” Vange suggested.
After they’d illuminated Erik on the magical option of conception, Erik said, firmly, “Well, I’m still proud of you, Charles.” He turned to Vange. “You were going to tell us about Charles’ sister?”
“You were both very young,” Vange explained. “When Kurt Marko was Prime Minister, and not Queen consort, he made a grave mess of dealings with Lady Darkholme’s country. He avoided war only by giving Cassandra as ward and eventually receiving Raven to complete the balance of trust.”
“They never speak of her. The Queen wore black for a year. I was eight. I remember,” Erik insisted.
“She is in Calloropthy. I am always slightly aware of those of you who manifest with my gift.”
“She is telepathic?” asked Charles.
“Yes, and she took some dragon magic. Not your water dragon form, her natural state is camouflage.”
“Oh,” said Charles, brightening as he did with new scientific discoveries, “so that’s why I have phantom pain when I’m not in water, because the tail is my natural state.”
“Yes, I am hurting in this form as we chat,” said the dragon dismissively. “Can I convince you to stay with me another night?”
They stayed for two more, Charles primarily studying the tommes of dragon genealogy and the biology of dragon reproduction, and Erik being thoroughly challenged by Vange over the chessboard.
XXX
Charles confronted his Mother and her consort and Erik confronted the Genosha council. Calloropthy was contacted and gemstones, artefacts and written apologies were proffered to bargain for Cassandra. The most surprising deal was struck.
And that Spring, when the wexcor wood trees were budding and gardens were at their most fragrant, Adrienne said goodbye to her parents and her siblings and departed, with her brand-new groom, for Calloropthy and a waiting court position.
Later in that same week, Erik brought Charles his sister. He opened the door to the carriage, after it had clattered to a stop in the Corazon stable yard, and handed a tiny, pale young woman down from the footplate.
Cassandra’s eyes were the purple-grey of a pregnant storm cloud and, when Charles gripped her hand, they spilled over.
XXX
The Crown Prince of Summer had the honour of standing on the wedding tapestry and under an egg-yolk yellow canopy in front of his family and his countrymen. He was on the highest tier of the staggered courtyard, swallowing compulsively and watching the progression mounting the steps towards him. Armando was marching towards him, surrounded by a congregation of very old and very young visiting Dutukanians and natives of Summer alike, all draped in immaculate white. Armando was dressed in deep red and had a rope of flowers on his shoulders like a spiky livery collar. He was escorted by his tall cousins, four preceding and four following behind the white-clad group, before they expelled Armando from their centre. A sudden grin glinted on Armando’s face.
Alex wanted to grin back but all his focus was on not embarrassing himself by fainting.
Ororo lead them in the wedding ceremony, wrapping their clasped hands in vines, requesting they declare their commitment in the hearing of all present and winking as she encouraged them to kiss.
Armando kissed Alex, holding him closer than was necessary, and whispered, “Even in the moments my arms are not around you, Alex, I am holding on to you. That you can count on.” And Alex’s nose stung, and he had to hide his face in Armando’s neck lest his people observe him being brought to tears as if he was Scott or Christian.
There was an excessive supper, which spun out for hours. Chefs had arrived from Dutukana with carriages of native ingredients, cooking the foods that Alex had requested most frequently during his tour in Dutukana. The dishes furnished the table alongside delicacies from each corner of Genosha.
Later on the lawn, as Armando dragged Alex out for their first dance, Alex enjoined the two engaged royal couples to keep them company in the dance. Scott almost ran with Emma and she giggled, clearly enamoured despite her frequent glares and put-downs. The young couple were to have a long engagement, with Scott warded in Snawr so both of them could attend official proceedings in the palace and begin to learn their future.
Charles smiled and shook his head at the demand to dance but Erik scooped him out of his chair and waltzed around in circles with the others for a few turns. Alex and Armando had ceased waltzing and were reduced to swaying side to side and staring at each other. Scott had been leading Emma on a wild route to the edges of the dancing space, until Emma took charge, placing Scott’s hand firmly on her shoulder, grasping his right hand on top of her left. They began a sweeping, bold dance that had several guests gasping with how elegant Scott could be when firmly in hand. Erik drew Charles’ chair to him with a careless nod, placed his love back in it and knelt on the grass to whisper to him for the rest of the song.
XXX
Charles squeezed his eyes closed tighter. He was aware of Erik’s lips pressing dry kisses on his bare shoulder and spine. It was sparking little charges across his back. He fleetingly thought about moving but the room was warm, the mattress soft and Charles’ arms felt heavy and perfect where they were. He gave a warning grunt.
Erik ignored him, his long fingers slipping over Charles’ ribs and fanning out over Charles’ heart, which seemed determined to leap towards Erik’s hand like an excited puppy. Charles attempted to calm himself down, and return to the blissful part of falling asleep where he could feel his consciousness dissipating into the ether.
Erik shifted and began to cover Charles’ naked back with feather-light tickles, softly tapping and dragging his fingers over the muscles. Charles groaned and rolled over to his stomach to give Erik greater access.
“Good morning,” said Erik, his voice crashing like surf onto Charles and stirring up his arousal like the waves toss around the sand.
Charles buried his head further into the sheets.
“I do not believe you are still asleep, princeling,” Erik said.
“I am very, very asleep,” Charles insisted.
“Well, I should stop disturbing you then,” Erik replied, and the glorious tickling stopped.
“I might be starting to wake up,” said Charles, much too quickly to be convincingly casual.
Erik’s hands returned to their drumming and dusting on Charles’ skin.
“This is lovely,” Charles conceded, “I will expect you to wake me up like this everyday when we are finally wed.”
They were due to marry in fourteen months at that year’s Summer Festival. Charles wished to spend at least four seasons with Cassandra, easing her into the ways of Genosha and the expectations of her new role in Corazon.
“And,” Erik added, sounding devious, “we will of course honeymoon at the Northern Tip, at your suggestion.”
“And at Vange’s lair,” Charles contributed, moving to face his fiance. “It’s good luck to sire an heir from the honeymoon.”
Erik laughed. “Oh joy. I’ll spend part of my honeymoon with a phoenix and a dragon,” he said, knowing Jean Grey would attend Vange to perform the conception magic.
Charles was unconcerned. He had been training with both Vange and Jean to develop his magic and fill Shaw’s gap in Ierocis Zeme as mage upon his marriage. “I am very used to the company of my phoenix and dragon teachers. Only I will insist on your unwavering focus when I have you alone in our chamber at night.”
“That I can do,” growled Erik, gathering Charles against him until they were seamed together chest to toe. “That, my sweet prince, is a promise.” He kissed Charles to underpin his words and, as their magic blended, it sent a frisson through them both, sealing their happily ever after.