Work Text:
Pale morning light greeted Kurt as his eyes cracked open. A soft mattress pressed against his backside while a blanket, haphazardly thrown across him, tangled around his limbs. He sat up with a start, panic in his throat. Had it not just been night?
His eyes darted around the room, quickly taking everything in. Furniture strewn around the room, a collapsed wall, broken glass sprinkled across the floor. Alone.
Where was Rogue?
His head was hazy. He remembered being outside, his head buried into his knees, tightly curled up by his sister’s bed. The crackle of a blaze eating away the place he recently called home filled his ears, followed by the sound of something massive smashing into the weakening structure. Logan and Morph had gone ahead to investigate, the only two that had the strength to do so. After that, nothing.
His mind was a whirlwind with all the numerous scenarios that may have played out during his memory gap as he ported from room to room. He stayed no longer than a second once he confirmed Rogue was not there.
Where was she?
Where was she?
His panic only increased with each port to an empty room. And then in an instant, it was replaced with relief once he finally found her, still bedridden in her comatose state. In the corner, Logan sat in an armchair, fist to cheek as he leaned back against the cushions. He was dressed in casual clothes, replacing his torn-up suit from their battle before. He barely twitched at Kurt porting into the room.
“Finally awake, sleepin’ beauty?” Logan grumbled as his gaze flicked over to him.
“How is she?” Kurt asked as he assessed Rogue’s condition. He couldn’t see any wounds, and her breathing was fairly even.
“No change.”
“I suppose that is better than her condition worsening,” Kurt murmured. “How long was I asleep?”
“Few hours. Relax, elf,” Logan added on as he saw Kurt tense up. “World didn’t end any more since you conked out.”
“What came of your investigation?” Kurt hazily remembered the crash.
“Professor’s back.” Logan folded his arms over his chest.
Kurt’s eyes widened. “Xavier?”
“Spare you the details,” Logan grumbled. He nodded towards Rogue. “You taking over watch?”
“Ja, I can do that,” murmured Kurt as he looked over Logan. Was he tired? He always looked tired. Maybe annoyed that he had to take over a watch? Kurt could read a person like an open book, but he could hardly get a decent read on the man that sat before him.
“Don’t push yourself,” Logan muttered as he stood from the chair. “Probably want to find something to entertain yourself also.”
Kurt’s attention turned to Rogue. For the moment, her face was peaceful. He wasn’t sure how long that would last.
Logan moved past him as he went to exit the room. Kurt turned to look back at him.
“Logan?” he called quietly to him.
Logan grunted, pausing just by the doorframe.
“Thank you.” Kurt paused. “Was it you who—?”
Logan grunted again, waving him off. Don’t mention it. He disappeared behind the door frame, leaving Kurt with Rogue.
Kurt followed his advice, quickly porting to and from the library. He grabbed the first salvageable book he laid eyes on and dropped back into the armchair. As he cracked open the pages, he paused a moment and glanced up at Rogue.
All aspects considered; Rouge’s state teetered on the edge of catastrophe. When she had not stirred from his gentle prodding as she had done before in Mexico, he had asked Jean to help wake her. They were only able to conclude that waking her before she was ready would prove disastrous.
The bed creaked slightly. He glanced up. Rogue tossed her head to the side, jaw clenched. Her eyebrows knit together as sweat beaded her forehead. Her breathing quickened.
Dutiful as ever, Kurt ported next to her. He crouched by the bedside, intertwining his gloved hand with her bare one.
“Fraulein, it is okay,” he murmured. “You are safe.”
Her grip tightened in his own before relaxing. Her breathing slowed, but her face was still contorted in pain. A pain she faced all on her own.
Well, not all alone. He was here. And he would stay here, as long as she’d let him.
He held her hand until her expression relaxed a bit more. Kurt returned to the chair and cracked open the book once more. He blinked in surprise as he was met with titles of children’s fairy tales.
Sure, he had picked the first book that hadn’t been charred to bits, but he did not expect Xavier’s School for Gifted Children to have a weathered book on fairy tales. He scoured the table of contents, reading the titles off the faded pages.
All wholly familiar, but none that he had read himself. Stories he only knew through assumption and second-hand knowledge. He had never been laid to rest with other worldly tales as a child. The only ones he was familiar with were the grand adventures of pirates on the high seas.
“Did Mystique ever read to you?” he wondered aloud. As the question slipped from his lips, he already knew the answer. She was not a doting mother, and he’d be surprised if the answer to his query was any variation of “yes.”
As he continued to peruse the table of contents, his eyes landed on the title Dornröschen. A German variation of Sleeping Beauty, that much he knew. The pages brittle and dry from time and heat, he carefully thumbed his way to the story. The book shuddered and groaned in his grasp as he cracked the spine open further.
“Logan has described you and me as ‘sleeping beauties.’ I wonder if he is familiar with the tale?” Kurt murmured, humor tinging his voice. His lips twitched up into a smile at the idea of the brutish man sitting down to read a book of fairy tales. “If he is not, perhaps we should invite him to read with us?”
His gaze flicked up over to her, partially hoping for a response. Rogue did not stir. His smile faltered slightly. He glanced back at the story.
“Would you want me to read to you, Fraulein?” he continued. “Is there any story you would like? We certainly have our host of choices. If not, we can start with Dornröschen.”
No reaction. Dornröschen it was then.
Kurt got up from the chair, electing to walk rather than port to the bed. Carefully, he climbed onto the foot of the bed, nestling himself into the space between Rouge’s feet and the bed’s footboard. He crossed his legs over one another and settled the book into his lap.
He cleared his throat slightly, looking over Rogue once more. She had hardly stirred from him climbing into the bed. His disappointed gaze returned to the book, and he began to read aloud.
“In past times there were a king and a queen—” the story began.
A story of jealousy and overprotectiveness unraveled before them. Magical gifts bestowed onto a baby princess—virtue, beauty, wealth, everything that one could wish for.
(“It sounds as if these wise women are mutants,” Kurt chuckled as he read that part. “Perhaps we should consider searching for them? I personally could use more beauty.” )
A jealous fairy, angry at being forgotten. The curse of death gifted to the young princess, softened into a near eternal sleep that would activate with a single prick of a spindle.
(The back of Kurt’s neck grew hot, and he fidgeted to shake off the encroaching dread. Trask’s hit shouldn’t have knocked her down as much as it did. What had happened in Mexico City while he was looking for her? How did she end up passed out in an alley?)
A king and queen who destroyed all spindles to avert their daughter’s fate. Only to seal it when her unfamiliarity with one beckoned curiosity instead of aversion.
(“It is a shame their fear of that future only served to make it true,” Kurt murmured sadly. “Fear is all the same, whether its root is in love or jealousy it seems…”)
A sleeping spell enveloped not only the young princess, but the castle itself. Everyone fell victim; none could escape—down to the castle’s cook and his aid.
(Kurt’s eyes flitted to the outside, which was easier now due to the gaping hole in the wall. In the bright light, he could still make out the shapes of bodies—zombie sentinels—across the lawn. And when the sun sets tonight, they will be met with a world that has gone dark and quiet for good.)
Time passed and a brier patch grew until it enveloped the whole castle, shielding it from view. Decades passed, with no one being able to breach its wall, until one day when flowers began to bloom.
“When the prince approached—”
A twitch. Kurt paused, his eyes darting up from the page.
Rogue shifted slightly, pressing her cheek into the pillow. Her eyebrows knitted together as she frowned.
Kurt carefully treaded forward in the story, Rogue just in his view above the page. Anticipation laced his voice as he watched her tense with every new word.
“Finally, he came to the tower where the Little Briar-Rose was sleeping—"
Rogue made a sound. It was quiet, barely a breath. But unmistakable. “Remy…”
The first word he’s heard her say since she’s been asleep. Kurt held his breath, his eyes flicking between the book and his sister. He saw her jaw clenched and how her fingers twisted the sheets.
His fingers split the book as he contemplated turning the page. They were nearly finished with the story. Just a few more paragraphs to its completion. Kurt knew how it ended, nearly everyone did. The princess awakens with a kiss from the prince. The sleeping curse dispelled, they live happily ever after.
But this was no fairy tale. There would be no prince to stir her. There would be no happily ever after.
Kurt slowly closed the book, his finger on the page of the story like a bookmark.
“I am sorry, Fraulein,” Kurt murmured, unable to keep his voice from breaking slightly. “That was cruel of me to do.”
Carefully, not wishing to distress her anymore, Kurt slipped from the bed and tiptoed his way back to the chair. He settled back into the cushion, looking her over. Still tense, but no overall change.
He perused the table of contents once more. “Perhaps another story will be helpful?” he offered. “The story of Little Red-Cap?”
He flipped to the tale, though his finger still held the mark for Dornröschen. As he began to read aloud, Rouge twitched again.
“Nngh—no…” she frowned. Kurt blinked. Was she frowning at him?
She fell quiet again, her face relaxing slightly, but her posture still tense. Kurt sighed softly. Carefully, he flipped back to Dornröschen.
“You are right. We should not leave a story unfinished, no matter how painful it may be,” he murmured. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he treaded forward.
“There she lay and was so beautiful that he could not take his eyes off her. He bent over and gave her a kiss. When he touched her with the kiss Little Brier-Rose opened her eyes, awoke, and—”
A jolt. The bed groaned with her movement.
“Remy…I—” Her voice was stronger this time, pain apparent. “No—!”
She shot up suddenly, eyes wide. Her breathing was ragged as her eyes darted around, searching for him. She screwed her eyes shut and pressed a hand to her face. “No…” she whimpered.
A wave of emotions hit Kurt upon seeing her sit up, but the most overwhelming one was relief. “Rouge…” he breathed.
He ported over to her as her balance wavered, placing a hand against her back to keep her upright. “How do you feel?”
Rouge rubbed her head, her mouth twisted into a frown. She suppressed whatever feeling was bubbling up inside her as she spoke. “I feel as though…” she trailed off, eyes widening. “Trask!”
She turned to Kurt, worry lining her face. “Did he—?”
Kurt took her trembling hand in his own, pulling it up to his chest. “Much has happened, Fraulein. Trask survived, and so did—”
Her gaze brightened slightly, hope igniting it. “Remy?”
Kurt pulled in a breath, his eyebrows knitting together as his gaze dropped. His expression was all she needed to know her answer. The hope that had flickered in her eyes was snuffed out in an instant.
A wordless story far too cruel to tell, awoken by a tale far too cruel to hear.