Work Text:
The first time Irene saw her, she had just met Raven Darkholme, she hadn't yet lost her eye-sight, and the vision was so far into the future, she could barely make out the girl's small face. She was just a flash, really, a blur of cream-shot-chestnut ringlets, distrustful eyes so bright a green, they rivaled a spring's new leaf, a splash of freckles across fine, dainty features, and a tall, leggy body in a whirlwind of motion.
She watched this girl, all of perhaps thirteen years old, kiss a boy and almost instantly make him slip to ground, unconscious. The next flashing image depicted the girl running away from home, right into the arms of Raven. Next, Raven brought her home, thus introducing her to Irene. That last image of the girl, eyeing her up suspiciously, told Irene all she needed to know about her.
She was a mess.
She was a mutant.
She needed help.
She would get it from herself and Raven, though despite that, she would not be happy.
She was Anna.
The second time Irene saw her, it was well over a century later, she and Raven had been lovers for nearly as long, and she'd long since lost her physical sight in a spectacularly exhausting evolution of her mutant power. The vision she'd had previously had of Anna had already come to pass, and at present, the sullen teen was camped out in the room Raven had just shown her. Raven was excitedly talking in rapid German about their new guest. At the moment, her lover merely saw her as a mutant recruit, an accessory in her cause of mutant rights.
Suddenly gasping in the onslaught of images dancing behind her blind eyes, Irene watched the girl, Anna, grow up under hers and Raven's tutelage. She saw her thriving with Raven's attention and approval, training up to be a formidable warrior. She saw her lover rarely outwardly showing her either, leaving the teen insecure and angry, eventually driving her to run off. Gasping again at the next image, she watched, clear as day, while the stripe-haired mutant moved from place to place, being caught up on the streets, abused by those who sought to use her power to their benefit. She saw the girl meet her end too early on those same streets, a clean shot to the head ending her pitiful seventeen years of life.
She was an even bigger mess than before.
She needed help, and she needed love.
Seventeen was way too young to die.
The third time Irene saw her, it was a mere four years later, and the visions were clearer than ever as they caught up to Anna. The previous future Irene had seen never came to pass, thanks to Irene pushing a loving, maternal relationship with the girl. They'd unofficially adopted her as their daughter, and Anna had responded enthusiastically to the affection now so freely given from her mothers, developing into a remarkably sweet natured, though definitely temperamental, girl who eagerly sought to please the two women.
Of course, Raven had long since begun training Anna to join her cause, and now, Anna, also known as Rogue, made up the youngest member of the Brotherhood of Mutants. Anna had more than proven herself to be an asset to the team, with an affinity for strategy, infiltration, theft, and hand to hand combat. And though she hadn't controlled her power, she seemed to have more or less accepted it for the time being.
Unfortunately, the happy family wouldn't remain so. Irene jerked to attention and dropped her tea, the cup shattering on the floor as visions of Anna becoming less and less the daughter they loved, and more and more the Rogue, a detached crusader and leader of mutant rights, powerful from the absorption of many, but lonely and isolated from her power, her dedication to the cause. She watched their daughter grow into a cold, staggeringly beautiful woman, respected by many, feared by many more, but loved by only a small few. She watched her daughter live long, but alone, eventually bitter, and eventually die the same way at the age ninety-two.
She wasn't a mess after all; her life was full of brilliance, power, admiration, and respect.
She lived a long, noble life, mostly free of tragedy.
Except for the soul-eating loneliness. That would kill her on the inside at very young age, indeed.
The fourth time Irene saw her, it was two years later, and the time-line shift was merely accidental, an unexpected twist, thanks to the sometimes mercurial whims of her lover. Anna, at nineteen, was well on her way to fulfilling Irene's previous prophecy, already frighteningly adept in fighting and espionage, and so achingly beautiful, it made her power all the more tragic. That power, as yet uncontrolled, had just caused the near death of one Carol Danvers.
At present, Anna was on the verge of a breakdown, battling it out with Danvers for control over her own mind. Irene was in the middle of a quarrel with Raven over the whole bit of nonsense, when she suddenly stiffened, then sagged into the nearest chair at the breathtaking zip of the future. She saw Anna's mental state rapidly deteriorating, a condition further exacerbated with added absorptions and Mastermind's manipulations. She watched her lover desperately pull in telepath after telepath, doctor after doctor, therapist after therapist to help their daughter, but to no avail. She no longer saw the cold, brilliant life of the Rogue, but rather a dark, dim spiral into madness, rage, and depression, ruining her beauty and savaging her sweet disposition, only to end in complete and necessary isolation, barely even knowing who she was, and a desperate suicide on her twenty-first birthday.
She was fragile, a tragedy.
Nothing but pain for the next two years, with a simultaneously sweet and heart-wrenching end.
She couldn't remain with them. Irene knew what to do. It'd hurt Raven, but at least Anna would live.
And maybe be okay.
The fifth time Irene saw her, it was less than a month later. As she'd predicted, Anna had worsened. Raven was already frantically searching for and compiling a list of people who could help her. Irene pursed her lips, and turned toward the hallway leading to Anna's room. She knew exactly what she needed to do, and now was the time, with Raven busy elsewhere and unable to interfere.
She cried out, dropped her cane, and stumbled into the wall just outside Anna's room, the prophecy burning behind her sightless eyes with images of Anna standing at a gate, looking out over the property sprawling on the other side, a sign reading 'Xavier's Institute For The Gifted' just to her right. Then she saw Anna first talking to a kind, elderly gentleman, then a stunningly beautiful red-head, then an icily beautiful blond, and a striking, burgundy-haired Asian, all them helping her at different times, successfully clearing her mind. She watched Anna train with Wolverine, eventually lead with Cyclops, garden with Storm, shop with Jubilee, have fun with Shadowcat, and grow into a content woman with the X-Men. She never did gain control of her power, but she did gain her place in life, and peace with who and what she was.
Anna's door opened, and Irene felt the cool, smooth brush of leather gloves as Anna pulled her to her feet.
"Mama, you alright? Heard you cry out. Need me for something?"
Irene smiled at the young Southerner's concern. She really was a sweet girl. "I'm fine, sweetheart. I just tripped on my own foot is all," she answered with a soft chuckle. "But yes, I need to talk to you. Ever heard of Charles Xavier, and his school for the gifted?" She asked, gesturing into the girl's room.
Some time later, she was doubled over with a particularly violent vision, one involving an exceedingly handsome young man with a flop of reddish hair in his startling red-on-black eyes. It started off with him desperately running away from Raven, fear and hatred etched deep into his features, though not directed at her. It ended with Raven, herself, Anna, the Brotherhood, and the X-Men slaughtered by a group of mercenaries, lead by a monster with pale skin, red eyes, and a blood-smeared, pulsating, sinister mark on his forehead.
"No, we can't have that," she whispered shakily. She knew the monster, and she recognized the young man from the description Raven had given her of a man going by Gambit, one she was planning to corner in New Orleans and recruit. No, can't have that.
Smiling shakily, she tapped her cane into the kitchen, and began preparations for brewing tea.
She'd warn Raven away from the man. That should do the trick, for then he'd have no reason to venture up north and endanger any of them.
She'd already convinced Anna to go to Xavier for help with her mind and power.
Anna would finally find happiness.
The last time Irene saw her, it was three years later. Anna had long since gone to Xavier, and was flourishing with the X-Men just as she'd seen that she would. She'd told Raven about it immediately after Anna had left, keeping her from attempting to bring the girl back. Raven was still bitter about it, and she still continued to meddle in their daughter's affairs. So long as she didn't change the warm future Irene had seen for her, she didn't interfere with her love's activities.
This time, when the vision hit her, it was so strong, and with so much certainty, she knew it was now a concrete path that would take major, catastrophic event to shake it. Prophecies such as these were rare, and had only happened to her twice before, the first time right before meeting Raven, the second predicting the addition of Anna into their family.
She watched as scenes of Anna and that man, Remy, unfolded in her mind's eye, a whirlwind of images of them meeting, arguing, flirting, and then dating. She watched their first kiss, watched them sleeping entwined in the sheets after the first time they made love, she watched the bitter fights, the trust issues, the turbulent twists and turns of their relationship, she watched them weather his past with the monster, Mister Sinister, and Raven's meddling, the ups and downs of her power, and the eventual control of it.
She watched them come together, time and time again, mending the potholes, loving away their hurts. She watched with tears in her eyes as he put a ring on her finger, as Raven buttoned up the back of her dress and fluffed her veil, and then walked their Anna down the aisle to her groom (wearing white, of course; Irene couldn't help but chuckle at her ornery partner for that). She watched as Anna swelled up with child once, twice, then three times, and she watched as the breath-takingly beautiful couple brought their three children to her family, then his. She watched those three children grow strong, proud, and go on to take spouses and have children, and she was crying as she came to the end, watching Anna grow old with her family, finally passing happy, loved, and loving.
"Renie? Irene?"
Irene flung her sightless gaze in the direction of Raven's worried voice, placing her hand over the one rubbing her shoulder. "We did it, Raven."
"We did what, love?"
"We saw to her. We took care of her." She smiled, and she felt Raven shift closer, felt her lips affectionately brush the bridge of her nose. "She's well. Happy, Raven." Those same lips brushed her own, and her smile widened into it. "Completely, totally, fully happy."