Chapter 1
Politicians lie, that was one of the first things that Erik learned in life. But what he could never distinguish was just where the politician ended and the human began.
His whole life had been this way. It was what he got for being born the son of the rulers of Genosha. Not that he had any say in who he was born to, mind. No more than his older sister Ruth did. The two of them were just along for the ride, the same way his father was before him. That was the bad part about being a prince, even if he was the second born and tried at every turn to have Ruth be the next in line. She never would approve.
Politics took over his life, his status as a mutant had much to do with that, something that everyone else seemed to look down on and Erik just wanted to not be feared, not be treated as a disease, to be seen and heard the same as everyone else. So, he did the logical thing and started studying up. If he was going to be the ruler of his land one day, he would be knowledgeable on the subject and know how to enact the laws he wanted in place for people like him. Genosha would no longer be a land for humans and mutants, it would be a safe space for the mutants alone.
“Are you done being the founder of your own mutant utopia?” Ruth asked, walking into the room, her arms full of fabric and Erik pushed his laptop back and sighed. Whatever this was, he wasn’t going to be getting any more of his research done for tonight.
“No, I’m not going to be done until this land becomes what I want it to be,” He replied, “But that’s not why you’re here. What’s this about?”
The stack of fabric was thrown across his bed, burying his laptop beneath it. Erik could now see that it was multiple dresses. And not just one or two either. “I’m trying to decide what to wear. I need an expert's opinion and you’re the only one I can find anywhere.”
“I’m assuming that means Kitty is dead?” He asked, sighing. This wasn't the first time his sister had come to him for fashion advice and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. He thought the last time would be eight years ago when she came to him for help. It ended with the two of them in matching red and purple outfits that clashed horribly. He knew it when he picked them, hoping she would learn her lesson.
Of course, being prince and princess, all that happened was they started what was, perhaps, the worst fashion trend in the history of the world and Erik had to sit through the fallout. The colors were everywhere he turned. People talked about it constantly. Apparently, they were making a statement. Erik’s statement was he didn’t want to be the princess's fashion expert for the rest of his life.
“No, of course not. But she is busy. Now, help me decide.” It seemed he wasn’t getting out of this one. He sighed and let himself fall back on the bed with his legs crossed. Pulling his glasses off, he motioned to the clothes, “Where are you going? Let’s see what you have picked out.”
“Where am I going?” She asked and Erik knew immediately he had forgotten something. Ruth had a way of saying a short sentence and immediately made Erik regret asking anything. As always, though, it wasn’t so simple as her just telling him where she was going. She had to make a whole thing about it. “Did Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, did you just ask me where am I going?”
“Yes,” He stated with a nod, “And, Ruthie, if you haven’t noticed, you still haven’t told me where you’re going. I need to know before I can tell you which one of those dresses would be the most appropriate.”
Ruth’s hands went to her hips, as though she thought it was all some kind of joke. “You better have a suit picked out too. If you don’t then Emma is going to kill you and then kill me for not reminding you.” She gave him a look and, when he only shrugged, her hands fell from her hips and a look of shock horror was on her face. “The wedding. The royal wedding. Remember? The fucking prince, that wedding?”
“That wedding,” Erik said quietly. Of course, he remembered it now. He had just hoped that the rest of the world had forgotten it the same as he had. Apparently not. The last thing he wanted to do was go across the ocean to dance in some horribly stuffy, overly white mansion with a bunch of other people in suits that cost enough to keep Genosha running for a lifetime.
And don’t even get him started on the stuck-up people. The shut-in queen, the not-quite-king, Prince Cain, Princess Raven, and, worst of all, Prince Charles. It sounded like hell to Erik, but he supposed there was no getting out of it. It was too late now to act like he was sick. And they were formally invited, there was just no way around it.
“Okay, fine. And yes, I have my suit, it’s been picked out. Show me the dresses. I have work to get to when you finish your fashion show,” Erik said, ready to get this over with and return to his work. It would be a few days before he got the chance to return to it again, after all.
Ruth sighed and rolled her eyes but picked up the stack of dresses, holding one up in front of her and Erik looked it over before making a face and shaking his head. “Not bad, but not fit for a wedding, not a wedding for a prince, anyway,” He replied and they moved on to the next. After considering it, Erik said, “Let’s see the last one.” When Ruth switched them out Erik immediately shook his head. “The light blue,” He decided, “Longer, a little more elegant, not over the top. I think that’s the way to go.”
Ruth nods, “Okay, thank you. I’ll let you get back to your terrible, horrible life as a prince now,” She said, gathering up the dresses and walking out of the door.
“Thanks, I’ll be in here suffering,” Erik called after her before reaching for his laptop. He could get another couple of hours in at least. Though he would, or should, be getting to bed soon, if they were getting up early in the morning to fly to Westchester.
Of course, that was the plan but, at six the next morning, he had only been asleep for an hour. Not that Emma seemed to care as she knocked aggressively on his bedroom door.
“You have fifteen minutes to get your skinny ass downstairs. If you’re not there, you’re going to be presumed dead and then I’ll make sure that is true,” She announced and Erik knew better than to push his luck. He got up out of bed, threw on some clothes, and brushed his teeth. Before he knew it, he was sitting on a plane, rising up into the air.
He had his laptop on the fold down table, trying and failing to get some more of his paper done. There was enough information saved on it that he should, in theory, be able to finish it up in the next few hours they were going to be spending in the air but, as it was, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get to it.
Aazael, an intimidating, red mutant with a tail, and a scar down his face was sitting across the aisle from him, locked into a rather heated battle with Emma, who looked like she wasn’t even trying. Her attention was on her nails, which she put most of her free time into. They were sharp enough to take someone’s eye out but she was still filing. Next to her, were bottles of white and silver nail paint.
Janos, who was typically always seen following after Azazel—who tended to keep after Erik—was silent, as he always seemed to be, but there was audible music coming from the headphones on his head. Erik was still almost certain the man was deaf and feeling the music rather than hearing it. He’d never gotten around to asking though.
And Ruth had her legs dangling off the side of the seat she had chosen, laid back on it with a magazine open. Her head was on Kitty’s lap and the two of them were already gossiping about the wedding. Could it really be considered gossiping if it hadn’t happened yet? Maybe it was just predicting what was going to happen.
Technically, Kitty had been his best friend but as children, closer to his age and her family were close friends to Erik’s and Ruth’s. As they got older though, the two girls grew closer together and, often, Erik was tempted to just let them go. He didn’t want his makeup done or his nails painted. Or so his parents told him.
“What do you think Prince Charles is going to be wearing?” Ruth asked in a quiet voice, and Erik could tell she was keeping her eyes on him. He could feel the way she was looking at him. Not that it stopped his loud sigh.
“Oh, God, we’re going on about him again? Honestly, there has to be some more interesting person at this wedding than that guy. He’s dry, he’s like plain, stale bread, and almost as white,” There was no hiding the annoyance. He didn’t have to hide the annoyance. At this point, he was certain the world knew about his feelings for the man.
Ruth gave him an exasperated look, one that he was well acquainted with and he could tell he was receiving similar ones from Emma and Azazel both as well. “Honestly, Erik, what do you have against him? What has he ever done to you?” She asked the questions as though she knew the answer and the answer was nothing. Erik wasn’t going to let it go that quickly.
“It’s like the entire world worships the ground he walks on. And for what? He looks just like every other generic white guy with brown hair. He’s got no personality, he’s a blank slate and people just project onto him what they want him to be. He doesn’t do anything, not really. The occasional bland charity event or smile and wave like he’s one of the penguins from Madagascar!” Maybe it was best that everyone knew his feelings towards the prince. Surely, if they didn’t, someone would be calling MI6 on him right about now.
“Projecting onto him what they want him to be,” Kitty said the words slowly, watching him with an amused expression and Erik wanted to take it all back. He might have messed up with that little part. “And is that what you’re doing, lover boy? You want to hate the prince so you’re making him out to be a villain. It has nothing to do with who he is. Besides, just because you’re screaming your personality everywhere you go doesn’t mean everyone else is. Maybe he’s just more reserved.”
“Oh, please. He eats up the spotlight. He loves it, you’ve seen how many publicity events he does. And for what? Just to get his photo on the front of a magazine or on a news article?” Erik asked, feeling some kind of deep irritation. Everywhere he went he saw that face, pale, clear skin, bright shining blue eyes.
“Right like on the front of Mutant Monthly,” Ruth said then paused and pretended to think. Erik knew where this was going but he wasn’t fast enough to stop it. “Oh, wait, that was you. Face it, Erik, you and him are a lot more alike than you want to think. Maybe you just see yourself in him and that’s what you don’t like.”
That wasn’t it but it was enough to shut Erik up for the rest of the trip. Mostly just because he didn’t want to dig himself a deeper hole to lie in and never be able to climb out of. So, instead, his attention went to his laptop and, even if he was certain nothing that he was writing would be anything he could use, he typed away until they were informed the plane was landing and he tucked his laptop away.
Erik, by now, was used to the routine of getting off the plane, and being seen getting into a car with all the others. Then the makeup and hair, the clothes, one thing after another until they’re watching someone he has never seen before walking down the aisle, and then more of what Erik can only describe as boring talk. A kiss is in there somewhere and then the real fun began. The low music, the mingling, and, most importantly, the drinking.
The three of them—Erik, Ruth, and Kitty—have been given a table to themselves. To Erik’s right is an extravagant dance floor. Behind him, a long table is set up with trays of snacks that people seem to be carrying around. And a large champagne fountain behind that. Off to the other side, a large cake is sat like some kind of decoration.
“It’s it kind of dangerous?” Erik asked, staring at it, “I mean the cake is just right out in the open. They must really trust a room full of drunks and people they have never met before. Anyone could just go grab a handful of that and start the world's most interesting food fight.”
“For the love of God, Erik, don’t,” Ruth said, “Mama and Papa would kill you. And that’s only if Emma and Azazel didn’t do it first. I think I would die of embarrassment if you even get close to that cake. I don’t even want to know how much it costs.”
Erik looked over at Kitty but she shook her head in warning as well. He had been hoping she would agree with him that it was stupid for it to be out in the open but apparently she, like his sister, just thought Erik was threatening to do something he would never have carried out. He knew it would be social suicide.
“Excuse me,” A man said, walking up to their table. Erik wanted to call him Albert, but this wasn’t a Batman movie, “Prince Charles had requested a dance with ‘Young Lehnsherr’ if that would be okay?”
Kitty looked at Ruth and giggled, “That would be more than okay," She answered for the other girl, pushing her to get up and Erik couldn’t help but notice how red his sister’s face had gotten. It would seem she was just as interested as everyone else.
“I don’t get it,” Erik said softly as the old man walked away with his sister, watching them go. “Just what is it people see in him? I mean really? I just don’t get it. I want to understand this one.” He was bad for asking questions when he didn’t really want to know the answer, really couldn’t care less, but this was one time that he wanted to know.
“Really?” Kitty asked, “You really don’t see it? He’s kind, he’s chivalrous, he’s charming. That smile, those eyes, his lips. His hair is perfect, not even you can’t deny that. He’s cute, I love his accent, he’s filthy rich. Not to mention anyone who marries him will be a princess.”
“Anyone who marries me will be too,” He counters, as though Kitty would ever consider marrying him. They had been there, tried that. It lasted a week and they both decided it was the most awkward week of their lives. No matter how much their parents seemed to love it. It was like if he tried to date his sister, nothing about it felt right. “He seems petty to me,” Erik replied, “Like he holds things over people’s heads. Something doesn’t go his way once and he complains about it for the rest of his life. He’s a spoiled prince.”
“Look who’s talking,” Kitty said, “But that’s just what you’re putting onto him. You win something he wants. You beat him at something and he loses. He doesn’t hold a grudge, you hold it over his head and try to rub it into his face.”
That was something Erik couldn’t deny and wouldn’t even try. “There’s a reason for it though. People keep comparing us. Two young princes, only a couple of years apart, both mutants, leaders to our respective people. And they always compare me to him and him to me. Who’s better, who’s smarter, who cares more, who has the most talent? We’re different people with different interests. I'm tired of being his competition when everyone thinks he's mister perfect."
“And now that you can admit that, you can start to let go of that grudge. It’s good you know you’re different people. I don’t think Charles has the same concerns as you do. I don't think he cares if you beat him onto the cover of Mutant Monthly or if you have done more hours of public speaking. I doubt he’s taken the time to watch all your speeches and add them up the way you have with him.” Erik should have been listening but he was watching Charles and his sister, the way Charles’s eyes were on Erik more than anything else, even with an arm around his sister’s waist. It was rude, to say the least.
As soon as the song was over, the two of them parted and Erik stood, leaving behind the two glasses he emptied. “I need a drink,” He declared as he walked away, going for a third. And using it as an excuse as well.
He found his way to the champagne fountain and grabbed a glass, only to feel a hand on his back. It was enough to make him turn quickly and look at who was behind him, the glass held in his hand.
“Charles,” He stated, as his eyes landed on the shorter man and felt those piercing blue eyes on him in return. Now that he was face to face with the man, he wasn’t sure what to say. He found his mind going blank and had to wonder if the other was causing it. Telepaths. Not to be trusted, as he had learned from Emma.
“Erik, fancy seeing you here,” He commented, reaching for a glass of his own. “Do you always drink this much? Or is it something about weddings? Maybe just taking advantage of the free alcohol? It is rather expensive champagne, after all,” Charles remarked and Erik had to fight the urge to pour the drink over his head. Him and his perfect fucking hair. It would be a waste of alcohol and he would pay a terrible price for something so rash and idiotic. Still, it could be worth it.
“I could ask the same as you. I think I’ve seen you getting your fair share of champagne. What is that? Glass five? Or perhaps six by now? Didn’t your brother know he was going to need a second fountain when he invited his little brother to his wedding?” Erik found himself asking and Charles only put on that polite smile. The one he always seemed to be wearing in a situation he hated. The one he put on for the press, the one he wore in interviews and photo shoots.
“I suppose he would have arranged for four of them if he had taken into account the prince of Genosha getting royally wasted at his wedding. Good to see you are being as stand-up and professional as always, my friend.” With that, Charles turned to go back onto the dance floor but Erik wasn’t done.
At his point, it was a well-rehearsed and known situation. Absolutely no one at the wedding was surprised by the argument if they overheard the two of them. No one was going to bother stepping in. It wouldn’t be the first time they kept yelling at each other as they were pulled to separate corners of the room. Then again, the last time that happened Charles was eight and Erik was ten. Everyone just expected it now, he and Charles saw each other and they spent at least twenty minutes arguing.
“I’m not an alcoholic,” He started, mentally planning how he was going to continue this argument. His hand shot out, grabbing Charles’s wrist and pulling him back towards him. Maybe he was drunk, or just stronger than he thought he was. He couldn’t be sure, but the next thing he knew there was a clattering, crashing, and he had Charles on top of him. The suit he was wearing was soaked through.
“Good going, Erik,” Charles said and didn’t even try to move off top of him. Around the two, the room was dead silent. No one moved or spoke for a moment and then faces appeared over the two of them. First was Cain, it was unmistakable, followed by Emma and Azazel. All Erik could think was at least it wasn’t the cake.