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they're saying i can change my mind
The first time she thinks it is on the plane. She doesn't even register the desire, not really, it's a stray panicked thought as her brother and Erik fight to level the plane and she sees her life flash before her eyes. Her stupid, pointless, hidden life.
If we live through this, I'm leaving. I can't keep living like this. I'll go with Erik, and if he stays with Charles, I'll go on my own. I can't keep doing this. I can't waste my life.
The thought is over before she realizes she's had it. There are a million and one things going on--chaos surrounds them, noise and fear and confusion. Charles is issuing orders and, of course, everyone gets to fight except her.
And the thought comes back again.
I need to be my own person. I can't be Charles' little sister forever. I'll scream if he doesn't start taking me seriously.
She thinks things like this all the time. Charles is her brother and he's overprotective and he lives his life by a set of rules that don't get to apply to her. Charles can have fun, but Raven needs to be careful. Charles can go drinking, but Raven's control might slip. Charles can sleep with a different girl each night, but Raven shouldn't trust boys to respect her. Charles can seduce taciturn German strangers, but Raven's nothing more than a kid who should run along to her own room with a patronizing comment and a chaste kiss.
She doesn't mean them. Not really. Or she does--she wants independence, she wants Charles to back off, she wants to live her life--but the rest is kneejerk frustration. The rest is the stupid things that she never means to do, never means to act on, just needs to vent. The rest are things that are hers in her mind, her fantasies, her thoughts, her secret desires.
Or at least she thought they were.
Her brother is bleeding. Her brother might be dying. Her brother is lying on the beach in agony and Erik--Magneto--is more concerned with his new world order then getting her brother to a fucking hospital.
She can tell by the look on his face that he expects her to go with him. She hopes it fucking stings when she kneels down next to Charles instead.
Except--
Go with him.
Not just a thought, a command. Her body twitches. He's trying to make her leave.
She can't let him.
Stop, she projects wildly, fighting against the impulse to leave. What are you doing?
"You should go with him," Charles says. She doesn't budge. "It's what you want."
And then, replaying between her ears is every flickering spark of anger, of frustration, every time she's thought of running away. Every time she's wished she could walk out on Charles.
It's things buried deep. It's things he had to look for.
"You promised me you would never read my mind," she chokes out.
"I know," he says. "I promised you a great many things, I'm afraid."
She hates him in that moment, more than she's ever hated him for taking away her drinks or scaring off her dates or commenting on her dresses or making her stay pink and blonde and cute. This is her decision, and she can't even make it. He's using her mind against her.
So she lets him.
She gets up. She goes with Magneto. It's what Charles clearly wants.
And Charles always gets what he wants.
***
shake my petals free
"It doesn't matter where you get sorted," Charles tells as they load stacks of first year text books into a levitating basket. "House rivalries aside, all of them have their admirable qualities and their less admirable qualities. It doesn't mean anything."
A few days later, when they're packing their trunks, Charles says, "More people than you think get sorted away from their families. Sure, there's family tradition, but can you imagine how dull it would be if every person from every family had all of the same opinions and qualities?"
On the ride to the station, as Raven peers nervously out the window, Charles tells her, "Houses are mostly just an organizational shortcut. They need to divide classes up one way or another. They need to group students into dorms somehow. They don't really mean anything."
"Houses intermingle all the time," Charles says when they're on the Hogwarts Express. "People have friends and family in all sorts of houses. Right, Erik?"
Erik, his face buried in a book, looks up just long enough to shoot an exasperated look at Charles. When it's clear Charles has seen the look, he refocuses on his book.
"Right, Erik?" Charles asks again, a little more sharply. He kicks Erik's shin, and Erik sighs like he'd rather strangle Charles than talk to him, then snaps his book shut.
"Sorting dictates your friends, your classes, your sleeping arrangements, your allegiances," Erik tells her seriously. "Sorting will be a part of every aspect of your life once you get to Hogwarts. The system in place has been created to keep students in line and self-disciplining by pitting them against each other arbitrarily. Your fellow students will come to paint you with the same broad strokes that they paint houses as a whole; you'll be seen through the lense of what your house's strengths and weaknesses are, and you'll have the weight of all past house members bearing down on you. Your house will rule your Hogwarts experience."
Raven tears her wide eyes away from Erik to glance at Charles, who looks equal parts appalled and resigned.
"Erik, you're not exactly--" he starts to say, but Erik cuts him off.
"But," Erik continues, "in your house you will meet lifelong friends. You will become unshakably bonded with other students and with thousands of former Hogwarts students. You will learn things about yourself that may not have been apparent and forge a deep connection to the magical legacy of those before you. You will feel united and proud, and all of these things are true no matter which house you're sorted into." He pauses for a moment and shrugs. "And, of course, your brother and I fell in love despite being in opposing houses, so it's not as if sorting limits you in your social prospects."
He opens his book again without another word.
"Well," Charles says, recapturing Raven's attention. "I do wish that you'd led with the first part, but. Yes, thank you."
Erik hums in response, but says nothing else.
"Anyway." Charles' attention refocuses on Raven. "As you can see, you shouldn't worry about how you'll feel about being sorted into any of the houses."
Raven's been thinking about her sorting for years. Of course she has. Every young witch and wizard dreams about their sorting from the moment they're old enough to understand what Hogwarts is. But lately, Raven's been wishing she was heading to school with a muggle's ignorance of what lies ahead. Because, well....
Xaviers are Slytherins. Xaviers have always been Slytherins. And Raven, of course, takes pride in that. Slytherin is a very noble house full of many noble, pureblood families. The ambition and cunning of Slytherins are traits she's always admired. As a little girl, she used to steal their mother's green scarves and tie them around her neck like a set of Slytherin robes. She was endlessly happy when her brother's first owl came home from Hogwarts bearing a bright green Slytherin seal.
But Raven's older now. And the past year or so, she's been thinking more and more about the houses. She's been thinking about the things that are most important to her and the things that are most important to her brother. She's been thinking about what she wants to accomplish and why. She's been thinking about her brash, impulsive personality and her tendency to run head first into trouble.
She's been thinking that she doesn't sound very Slytherin. Not anymore.
"I'm not worried about how I'll feel if I'm sorted into a house besides Slytherin," Raven says carefully. "I'm worried about--" It feels so silly, but she has to say it. "I'm worried about how you'll feel."
Charles blinks at her.
"How I'll feel?" he asks. "Raven… that's absurd. I'll be proud of you no matter where you go, of course. I won't love you any less for being sorted differently than I was."
"You won't be upset?" Raven asks. She looks at her brother in his neatly pressed black and green robes, with his silver serpent tie-pin and his gleaming prefect's badge. "You promise?"
"Of course I promise," Charles says. "Wherever you're sorted, I'll be thrilled for you."
Raven faces the rest of the train ride with renewed enthusiasm. She peers out the windows of the Hogwarts Express and watches the looming castle get closer and closer.
She says goodbye to Charles and Erik at the station and follows the giant groundskeeper away from the train. Hogwarts is bright and beautiful in the twilight, a picture right out of her childhood dreams. She already loves it. She already feels welcome here. She already knows she'll be more at home here than she ever is at Xavier Manor.
There are so many students in front of her that she has more than enough time to locate Charles and Erik in the sea of faces. Charles smiles at her and waves. Erik nods coolly in her direction, which is about as affectionate as Erik ever is with people who aren't Charles, so it makes her smile widen.
And then Professor McGonagall shouts, "Raven Xavier!" and Raven is scrambling towards the stool in front of the room.
The hat falls onto her head. She holds her breath.
You know where you're going already, don't you? whispers a voice in her head.
I think so, she thinks towards it.
All that family tradition and this is where you'll be happiest?
Yes, Raven says with more conviction.
It's your funeral, the hat says. Then it shouts, "GRYFFINDOR!"
She hops off the stool with a grin. The Gryffindor table is hooting and hollering for her already. Erik is standing there with them, clapping sedately but smiling more than she's ever seen him smile at anyone who wasn't Charles.
Charles.
She glances back towards the Slytherin table. Most of them are looking bored or eyeing the time. Charles is looking at her, though.
Charles looks like his heart has just broken.
You promised, she wants to shout at him, but she's enveloped by a sea of red and gold before she can open her mouth.
***
too angry to drive home
The last place Raven wants to be is a house party, but she knows she's expected to attend. She's popular and outgoing and seamlessly woven into half a dozen different social groups. People will think it's weird if she skips it, and if people think it's weird they'll start asking questions. They'll start nosing around. They'll want to know where she was.
She's not quite ready to tell the world that she'd rather be cuddling with her girlfriend than drinking shitty beer and shouting to be heard over repetitive dance music, so she goes to the party anyway.
She hears the music before she even sees the Frosts' house, and she has a headache by the time she's parked her car and slipped inside. The place is already packed with a who's who of the rich and popular. She puts on her best smile and slips into the crowd, grabbing a lukewarm beer as she goes. If she can be seen by enough people, maybe she can head out early and sneak over to Irene's for a few hours.
She manages to find a handful of the most influential seniors, most of whom politely inquire after Charles, even though everyone knows Charles has avoided this type of party since the accident. She makes small talk about their college plans ("Well, I'm Princeton legacy, of course, so there's no question." "Yeah, my dad and I are having lunch with the President of Harvard next week, just to seal the deal.") and then slips away to the next group. She talks to the refined artsy kids on the porch, the fashionable mean girls of the sophomore class, the star quarterback and his entourage. She's only take two sips of her beer, so she promises herself that after she talks to Emma's inner circle of senior class mutants, she can make her escape.
Emma is lounging on a white couch with Sebastian Shaw, Janos Quested, and--fuck, Erik.
"Raven! So glad you could make it!" Emma says, and gestures for Raven to come close enough for Emma to kiss her cheek. "And where is your lovely brother this evening?"
"Probably nerding out over some new science documentary at home," Raven says. She very pointedly does not look at Erik, scum of the earth, biggest asshole in the known universe, and recent dumper of her brother. She and Erik were friends before Erik even met Charles, but Raven loves Charles more than anyone else in the world. Her allegiances are clear.
"Well, tell him he's been missed," Emma says. Raven looks at Erik out of the corner of her eye. He's staring at the floor. "And we are, of course, so thrilled you were good enough to take some time away from your new romance to join us. Although next time, you should absolutely bring her along."
Raven can feel all the blood draining from her face. If she was wearing a disguise, she knows she'd be white as a sheet. As it is, her hands start shaking and her heart starts beating wildly.
"What?" she manages to say, although it doesn't sound anything like casual.
"Your new girlfriend," Emma says. "Next time, you should bring her with you. No need to hide her away from us, you know."
All that Raven can hear any longer is the furious beating of her heart.
"I… have to go," she manages to say. She looks at Erik as she stumbles out of the room. He's still staring at the floor and doesn't acknowledge her as she passes and she knows, she knows what happened.
She leaves the party early. She does not go to Irene's house.
Charles is on his laptop in the library when she gets home. He greets her with a smile that melts away when he sees the fury on her face.
"Raven, what's wro--"
"Did you tell Erik about Irene?" she demands. Charles' mouth drops open. "Did you tell him? Fucking tell me, Charles!"
The shock gives way to guilt almost immediately and Raven has to blink back tears.
"I didn't mean anything by it!" Charles says. "It just… well, it came up that he wanted to set you up with someone, so I mentioned you were seeing someone and he was surprised, so I--"
"I told you not to tell anyone!" Raven shouts at him. She needs to keep yelling or she's going to start crying. "I told you it was a secret! You promised! You promised you wouldn't tell!"
"It was just Erik!" Charles insists.
"Yeah, and now Erik is your fucking ex and apparently has no problem telling everyone about Irene!" Raven snaps. Charles goes pale, but fuck him. Fuck him so much. She doesn't have room to think about his precious feelings and his stupid heartbreak.
"I don't understand why it's a big deal!" Charles says. "No one will care that you're dating a girl, you know. Not anyone we know, at least."
Of course Charles doesn't get it. Charles knows everything about everyone all the time. No one has secrets around Charles, so of course he can't keep secrets for anyone else. It's a wonder he didn't see Erik's break-up coming a mile away.
"It was mine to tell!" Raven says. "You don't get to tell people I'm queer, Charles, that's mine. I get to say that, I get to tell people, and I didn't want to! Not yet. I wanted to have this for myself for once in my life!"
"I just told Erik--"
"But you promised you wouldn't tell anyone," Raven says. She's definitely crying now, hot tears running down her cheeks. They might be out of anger or they might be out of disappointment, but it really doesn't matter either way. The end result is the same: she's upset and she's crying.
She told Charles a secret and he told someone else. It doesn't matter who it was--the end result is the same: everyone knows and she knows she can't trust him again.
***
i could let this bridge wash out and never make amends
Mr. Xavier dies when Raven is just eight years old.
"Will they send me away?" she asks Charles one night long after their nanny has gone to bed. She was Mr. Xavier's ward, after all, and Mrs. Xavier has scarcely wanted anything to do with her since she arrived two years ago.
"They can't," Charles insists. "I simply won't let them. You belong here with us. You are my sister and you shouldn't be made to go anywhere you don't want to go."
"You can't promise that," Raven says.
"But I can," Charles says. "I'll be lord of the estate one day, after all. I promise you won't be forced to go anywhere you don't want to go. I would never make you do that."
Raven holds tight to that promise. It lingers in her mind as a happy reminder of how much Charles cares for her in the first year following Mr. Xavier's death. In the second year after Mr. Xavier's death, Mr. Marko comes calling on Mrs. Xavier, and Charles' promise is more of a balm for her anxiety. Charles says that Mr. Marko thinks dreadful things, that he has poor intentions, that he wishes to lock both Charles and Raven away, send them off to one of those schools for abnormal freaks.
Mr. Marko marries Mrs. Xavier. He wants Mr. Xavier's estate, but he can't get to it while Charles lives. Raven is terrified of that loophole--the estate and money go to Mrs. Xavier (Mrs. Marko) should Charles die and she doesn't believe Mr. Marko is above speeding that process along.
"He wouldn't," Charles tells her. "And if he ever starts getting any ideas about it, I'll know before he can move a finger against me."
That knowledge doesn't make the years that follow any less difficult. While Charles may be able to keep Mr. Marko from sending them away or taking Charles' life, there's not much he can do about the addition of another child to their household and the bullying they endure from Cain Marko. She supposes the bullying is better than the alternative, but he hits them both and torments Charles endlessly. There are days that Raven is unsure how they'll get through it all. Charles will inherit officially when he turns eighteen and he's promised to throw the Markos out, but each day that passes feels like a lifetime. It feels as if Charles' eighteenth birthday will never come.
And then, when Charles is seventeen, after six years of the Markos, it all comes to an abrupt end.
Mr. Marko, Mrs. Marko, and Cain leave for London on a Sunday. On a Tuesday, a lawyer from the city arrives at the estate to inform them that all three perished in a tragic accident. If the lawyer thinks it odd that neither Charles nor Raven shed a tear at the news, he doesn't mention it.
Things change, of course--Charles is drawn into long meetings with solicitors and bankers and men from the city. He looks tired all the time, but he always has a smile for her. Raven stops thinking about his promise--there's no need to cling to it when they're finally free. There's no one left to make Raven go away.
Or at least, that's what she thinks.
She returns one afternoon from calling on Irene, her dearest friend, and sees an unfamiliar carriage outside the main house. When she enters and searches inside for her brother, she finds him in the library, having a drink with a young man she's never seen before. He's tall and handsome, though his face looks lean and severe, and the warm smile that graces his face when he looks at her brother fades into a sharp glare when he turns to look at her.
"Raven!" Charles says. "We were just speaking of you! How fortuitous for you to return."
Raven enters the library slowly. Something about this man makes her uncomfortable. She's not sure what it is--it may very well simply be the ease with which Charles smiles at him and stares at him.
"Miss Raven Darkholme, my late father's ward," Charles says to the stranger, gesturing towards Raven. She curtsies politely. "Raven, this is Mr. Erik Lehnsherr. He's a… business associate of mine." The man smiles at that, mysterious and amused both, as if there's more to that title than there seems. "He, too, has a ward under his protection."
Raven frowns at that. Charles isn't her protector. She's not his ward, she's his friend, his sister. Yes, officially, as master of the estate, her guardianship has fallen to him, but he's never thought of himself that way before.
At least, he's never expressed it to her.
"Is that so?" Raven asks.
"We've been speaking on the subject, and we think that it would be an excellent match," Charles continues.
It takes Raven far too long to work out what Charles means.
"As in a marital match?" she asks. She's gaping and she knows it's unladylike, but she can't stop herself. Her blood has run cold.
"Of course," Charles says. "It's nearly time for you to start considering your options, you know, and Mr. McCoy would be a wonderful husband for you."
"Husband," Raven repeats. She feels faint.
"He already has control of his late parents' estate," Charles says. "You could move--"
"Move?" Raven says. "I don't want to move. I don't--I don't want to get married!"
"Raven," Charles says. His tone of voice makes her feel as if he's lecturing a child. "Of course you'll get married."
She's shocked at first, then, just as quickly, angry.
"I won't!" she says. "I won't leave here--you promised me you'd never make me!"
"Well, yes, but I meant more that the likes of the Markos couldn't drive you out. Of course you'll get married."
There's no "of course" about it. The very thought of marrying some strange man she's never met turns her stomach. The thought of marrying at all turns her stomach, and she knows if she spends a moment longer in the presence of Charles and the smirking Mr. Lehnsherr, she will absolutely embarrass the Xavier name by screaming or crying or otherwise acting like a child. It's best, then, that she flee immediately, which is what she does. She mutters a brief apology to Mr. Lehnsherr, curtsies again, and then rushes upstairs as fast as her feel will carry her, holding her skirt up off her ankles so she can move all the faster.
Married. Charles wants her to get married. Charles wants to send her away. She can already feel tears welling up in her eyes, as much from the idea of marriage as from the sharp sting of Charles' betrayal.
She's prepared to throw herself onto the bed and sob once she reaches her room. She's unprepared to see Irene sitting on the edge of her bed with a traveling case.
"We'll need to leave immediately if we do not want to be caught," Irene says before Raven can ask her why she's here or how she got in. "Pack quickly, my dear. Your brother will only let you mope for so long, and we must move now if we do not want to be discovered."
"Discovered?" Raven asks.
"Yes, it would be no good at all if your brother were to find out we're running away together before we actually accomplish it," Irene says.
For the first time since Charles said the word "match," Raven feels as if she can breathe.
Long ago, Charles promised he would never make her leave. He can't break that promise if she leaves on her own.
***
the one who leaves this also grieves this
Before the lab, before the tests, before the cage, Mystique was called Raven.
Before the doctors and soldiers, before the men and women in labcoats and slick suits, Mystique had a family.
Before she took the life that condemned her to this torture, Mystique had a brother.
She tries to remember these things. She knows that they want her to lose her mind. She knows that they keep trying to stretch her to the breaking point, to destroy her spirit so she'll be a more willing test subject. She won't let them. She goes through it all in her head, her entire life, over and over again, from childhood to the moment she pulled a gun on Bolivar Trask. She doesn't let herself forget any of it. It's all she has left, it's all that she is, it's her last remaining strength.
Days and nights have bled together for as long as she's been here, weeks became months became years and all that marks the passage of that time is the changing faces. She likes to think that a lesser person may have caved, but Mystique is stronger than that. Mystique knows who she is. Mystique knows who she needs to be.
And when one of those new faces--days, weeks, months, years after she was put into this prison--makes a mistake, Mystique knows what to do.
She steals the woman's face. She steals the woman's car. She steals off into the night and drives and drives until the car runs out of gas, until she's miles away. She leaves on foot, after. She goes until she can't go any longer, and when she's ready to collapse from exhaustion, she finds a dark and shuttered house and creeps inside. She takes food from the pantry and clothes from the closet and the car parked on the street outside. She takes the stack of newspapers by the door, too, and ends the night at a hotel, paid for with stolen money, wearing a stolen face, the events of her life still on constant repeat behind her eyes.
Her life before left her in prison. It's time to take it back, to make a new one. It's time to truly become Mystique.
Before she was Mystique, she was Raven. Before she was Mystique, she had a family. Before she was Mystique, she had a brother.
Her brother promised her she would never have to steal again.
Her brother never was very good at keeping his promises.
***
i'll push myself up through the dirt
It's funny, when she thinks back to how it all started. She hadn't wanted Charles to know at all.
They were on better terms these days, of course. She had been to see him at the school several times in the aftermath of Washington, DC. She'd brought prospective students there. On one memorable night, she'd even stayed up far too late with Charles, drinking far too much wine, discussing in far too much detail Erik's foibles. She'd paid for it with a hangover the next day, but she was comforted by the fact that at least she was over Erik. Charles had the dual pain of a hangover and a reminder that he still carried a torch for a grade-A asshole.
Still, she felt that her freedom was so recently won. Charles saw her as a person. Charles accepted her for who she was. Charles acknowledged and respected her independence. Seeing her like this… pregnant....
Well, she wouldn't have been surprised if all his old instincts came clamoring back in. He'd want her to stay out of the field. He'd want her to check into some hospital with a pretty pink face until the baby was born. He want to make doctor's appointments for her and wrap her in cotton wool.
"I think you're underestimating your dear brother," Irene told her more than once, but she never pushed any harder than that. Raven knew that she would when she needed to--if some vague future event hinged on Raven telling Charles she'd become unexpectedly pregnant, Irene would have forced her hand. Until then, Raven was intent on keeping it to herself.
But then, of course, Kurt was born. And her resolve to keep living her life the same way she always had weakened considerably when there was an actual newborn staring up at her with big yellow eyes so like her own.
"Well, shit," she said quietly.
"There's always--" Irene started to say.
"I know," Raven snapped. "I can leave him with Charles, where Charles will baby him and raise him and lock him up in that house the same way he did for me. Hide him away from the world."
"He's a schoolteacher now," Irene said. "He's not a child making it up as he goes along. He does this every day, you know. He raises children and then he lets them out into the world. He's learned much since you first parted."
Raven still kept her mouth shut, lips slanted downward.
"I think it would be a very good idea to leave Kurt with your brother," Irene said, and any hope Raven had of winning the argument evaporated.
She had to fall in love with a fucking precog.
She made Irene come with her. The drive up to Salem Center turned her stomach. The walk to the front door made her sweat. The look on Charles' face when he saw Kurt made her long to retreat back to the city with her son and her lover, back to the home she pretended was safe.
"It's too dangerous for him to live with us," she told Charles. "People come after us. People want me dead. And Irene can see some of what's coming, but not all of it. I can't be sure he'll be safe there, and I can't put him into danger."
Charles wasn't looking at her, but staring down at his cheerfully burbling nephew with wide, affectionate eyes.
"I'll keep him safe," Charles said. "I'll take care of him. I'll make sure he's happy and loved and healthy. I promise."
She pushed back the urge to grab her son and run. Historically, Charles wasn't very good at promises.
Somehow, Irene knew. She always knew. She reached out and squeezed Raven's wrist.
"I know," she said. "But it's okay."
Raven left her son with her brother and waited every day for the call that something terrible had happened. She waited every moment for Charles to break yet another promise.
The call never came. And now here she is, sitting in the first row for his graduation. His graduation.
Her baby is eighteen and whole and healthy and happy. He has a girlfriend and an abiding interest in studying religion and philosophy. He speaks German and French (she blames that on a decade of living with the newly reformed Magneto) and sees her for every holiday and loves her and Irene more than Raven imagined she could be loved.
She's crying a little. Maybe. When he walks across the stage to get his diploma, she cheers so loudly she knows she embarrasses him to his core, but she doesn't care in the least.
Charles finds her after the ceremony, expertly weaving his chair in and out of the crowd, politely deflecting attempts at conversation until he rolls to a stop in front of her.
"Well, you did it," she tells him.
"Did what?" he asks.
"You somehow took care of my son for eighteen years without major injury or psychological harm," she clarifies. "I have no idea how you run a paramilitary strike force out of your basement and still kept my kid from being hurt, but I have to give it to you. You kept your promise."
Charles presses his hand to his chest, his face screwed up into an over-dramatic look of offense. He's been spending way too much time with Erik.
"I always keep my promises!"
Raven laughs.
Raven keeps laughing.
Raven is still laughing when she leans over to kiss his cheek.
"You don't, but that's okay," she says. "This one was important, and that's all that matters."