Chapter 2
“Are you completely out of your mind?” Emma asked him, throwing a stack of magazines and papers down on the table in front of him. Erik didn’t have to look to know what they were, all talking about his and Charles’s little mishap from the wedding. “Are you incapable of rational thought?”
“Emma,” Edie said, a small note of warning in her voice, “Please calm down when talking to my son.” Erik was endlessly grateful until his mama got up and walked around her desk until she was looming over him—well, as much as she could, being 5’1 to his 6’1, even if he was sitting down. “That being said, Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, what the hell did you think you were doing? You know better than that. What you did was stupid and idiotic. I expect better from you.”
And, somehow, that hurt more than anything that Emma could have said about the situation. It wasn’t anything new to hear her wanting to murder him for something or just simply control him as he made his way through some kind of public event but what he didn’t expect was to hear his mother’s disappointment. All his life he had strived for her approval, just like he wanted the approval of his father. Often he got it, but there were times when things just didn’t work out that way.
“Technically, it was his fault, he fell into me.” It was all Erik could think of to say but, judging from the glares the other two sent his way, they weren’t exactly impressed.
“Erik, right now, I frankly don’t give a shit whose fault it was. What matters is that it happened,” Emma stated, “You were in your own little hating-the-prince world and were arguing with him. Knowing you and, from what I’ve heard about the prince, I’m sure there was alcohol involved—aside from the champagne fountain,” She rushed to add as he opened his mouth. “It was a royal wedding, Charles’s brother’s, they’re the one out the money, you were the one visiting. Therefore, you’re taking responsibility. Just have a look through those papers.”
It was the last thing Erik wanted to do, but he found himself reaching for them anyway. “Drunken Disaster,” one said “Prince Following in Mother’s footsteps” Another read, the third one simply stated, “Prince Erik falling for Prince Charles.” That one annoyed him the most but he found himself reading more of the paper, picking up a few lines here and there.
“Everyone knows about the Princes’ feud, but could it be more than simply disliking each other?”
“Relationships strained between Genosha and Westchester, are the young princes’ to be blamed?”
“Prince Erik seemed unable to keep his hands off Prince Charles at the royal wedding, and it seemed Prince Charles felt the same.”
And right in the middle of the article, a photo of Charles’s small body lying on top of Erik, both of them with twin looks of shock on their faces. Their suits were ruined, soaking wet and stained with alcohol. From the angle the photo was taken at, it looked like Charles was holding onto him. Now, Erik had to wonder if he was or not, he couldn’t remember, and most of his time on the floor was a blur. Even if it felt like time was suspended when it was happening.
“So, here’s what you’re going to do,” Emma said, the words coming out slowly, as though she was talking to a small child. “You are going to Westchester. You are going to spend Sunday with Prince Charles. You are going to act like you two are best friends. Brothers. You act like he is the most special man in the world. The best thing you have ever seen. The sun shines out of his ass. And then you are going to come back home Sunday night. There will be no problems. There will be no more disturbances. No more political drama or feuds between you and Prince Charles.
“I have a sheet with facts about him. You will learn each of them and be able to quote them in your sleep. You need to know everything about him for that interview and any future ones that may come up. If you fail to do any of this, to the letter, I will skin you alive. Do you understand?”
Erik sighed but nodded anyway. There was no point in arguing now, Emma would just explain it all to him again and ask the same question. It wasn’t worth wasting his breath. Even if he thought there were so many better ways to spend his time. Though he couldn’t help but wonder,
“Is Charles getting one of these about me?” He asked, holding up the papers about Charles. It would only be fair, right? It wouldn’t be a good look for Charles if Erik knew everything about him and Charles knew absolutely nothing about Erik.
On second thought, maybe they shouldn’t give him one. It might look bad on him but Erik would look great.
“Don’t even think about it, sugar,” Emma said, clearly picking up on that thought. “You have both gotten one and, believe me, coming up with yours was possibly the most disappointing and low moment of my career so far. He’s getting this talk the same as you are and you are both expected to behave. Now, run along and memorize that. I’ve included a copy of your schedule for Saturday night and Sunday as well. Your mother and I have some other matters to discuss.”
Edie, who had until then, been standing to the side, gave him a small smile. “I’m sorry, Liebe but Emma is right. Your little stunt has left us with quite a disaster to deal with. Especially with the state things were already in. I’ll see you and your sister for dinner tonight, I love you.”
“Love you too, mama,” Erik replied, standing up and pressing a kiss to her cheek. He collected the papers and then went for the door.
It was still strange for him to see his mom juggling being a queen and a mom at the same time. During his younger years, she was still the princess, married to the prince and his grandparents were the king and queen. In those days, he didn’t know how much work went into running a country, he never saw it. But, in the years since the death of his grandfather, when his parents picked up some of the work, and then his grandmother followed soon after, it really opened his eyes. Running a country and being the figurehead wasn’t easy. It wasn’t even easy for him to be the prince now with eyes on him all the time, photos, videos, everyone knowing his name and where he was at all times.
It didn’t make him want his place any less though. Ruth had happily allowed herself to be passed up, preferring to be a princess who had a low chance of ever being the queen. Erik was wanting to see what kind of difference he could make, and what changes he could bring. He wanted to be king and be the change he thought was needed.
If only his parents and Emma would leave him alone about finding a princess. He knew he was in his early twenties and would need to slow down on the role he was currently on but he couldn’t help it. There were just no women catching his attention. At least, not for any longer than one night after a few too many drinks and a signed NDA.
There would be someone at some point, he knew. His parents would make sure of that if they had to pick someone themselves, but for now, he was happy the way he was and certain he could rule the country if and when it became his responsibility.
“Did Emma chew you up and spit you out already?” Ruth asked as he walked into what could only be described as their common room. A large TV with assorted video games, a speaker system, the most comfortable chairs in all of the castle, blankets, and pillows thrown around. It was a bit of a mess but to the three of them, that was what made it so comfortable.
“Yeah, something like that,” Erik replied, sighing and falling back onto the couch next to Kitty, turning to lay his head on her lap and starting to look through the stack of papers he was given. Kitty made a vague attempt to shove him off of her but then gave up and just sat back.
“What is that anyway?” She asked, motioning to the papers in his hand, tilting her head to try to see them better. “HRH Charles Xavier fact sheet?” She read off, then laughed, “I hope you made that, and have decided to make the jokes easier on us. Is he your secret boyfriend and you felt the need to make a list about him?”
Erik rolled his eyes and then sat up, leaning back against the back of the couch instead. “Of course not. Emma gave it to me. It’s information about Charles. I have to visit him this weekend for some publicity thing, and learn this information in case it comes up.” He didn’t want to admit it but he already knew most of it. It was the most basic of information that he was sure all of Westchester and most of Genosha already knew. Along with the rest of the world.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Ruth said, pulling the papers from her brother’s hands and looking it over. “Do you know this stuff yet?”
“Most of it,” Erik replied, “It’s stuff you’ve told me over and over during your time mooning over him like some lovesick teenager.”
“I was a lovesick teenager,” Ruth replied, rolling her eyes at her brother, “Besides, he’s attractive and nice. There were much worse guys out there for me to spend my teen years crushing on. Now, let’s see. Parents?”
“What?” Erik asked, and then saw her looking from the paper to him before realizing what she was doing. “Oh, right. Queen Sharron, a drunk to believe the papers, married Brian Xavier, a scientist, now dead, suicide. They had Charles together before that. The queen then married Kurt Marko, the father of Cain Marko and no one is entirely sure where Raven came from.”
Ruth looked at him, “And I suppose you’d say the same thing about me? I hope for the sake of your life you don’t say something like that in front of the prince.”
“Fine, Raven, his biological sister. Despite them looking nothing alike,” Erik amended. “Next question.”
Kitty stole the papers from Ruth’s hands, making a show of looking them over before smiling, “Okay, pets?”
“A dog, Albert. Which sounds like he should be the butler. What kind of dog's name is Albert?” Erik asked, almost more annoyed by the man’s dog name than he was about the man himself. Charles was truly some boring, bland, dull, dry, shell of a human being and Erik just didn’t understand that.
“Okay, Albert is a strange name for a dog,” Ruth commented, “Maybe he’s had him since he was little or something? Named by a child, like you and the dog you named horse when you were three.”
“We agreed to never talk about that,” Erik said, pointing at his sister, who only made a biting motion at him, making him pull it back just as quickly as he aimed it at her.
“You still did it,” Ruth said, taking the papers back, “Best friend?”
“Hank McCoy, as though he didn’t sound bland enough, his friend’s name is Hank. A scientist, something about biology, they both went to Oxford together, got their degrees at the same time. He’s twenty-two, the same age as Charles, and is doing research currently about mutations. People think he’s looking for a cure but the nature of his research has not been disclosed.”
Ruth jumps up slightly, “Pop quiz, basic information about Prince Charles, go.”
“Prince Charles Xavier, twenty-two, Ph.D. in genetics, obtained from Oxford when he was entirely too young to get a Ph.D. because he’s some sort of genius or, more likely, he or his parents paid his way into college early and bought the degree,” Erik replied, knowing he would never say part of that to Charles’s face. The jury was still out on what part.
“I don’t think Oxford works that way, but thank you for the input,” Ruth said, looking at the papers again, “Okay, final question, it all comes down to this. What’s Prince Charles’s favorite book?”
Erik froze at that, thinking. Did he even get to that part when he was looking the papers over? He didn’t remember that. “Probably something as boring as he is. Or maybe something basic? Some children’s books? Is it Green Eggs and Ham?” He found himself asking, almost positive that was wrong but what if it wasn’t?
There was a buzzer sound and then a smile from Ruth, “Oh, sorry, that was incorrect. But you’re going to love the answer.”
“What? Something horrific? Moby Dick or something?” Erik asked.
Kitty laughed, “Oh you would love it if he liked Dick, wouldn’t you?” She asked and got pushed off the couch by Erik, as she went down, she grabbed him and pulled him onto the floor with her.
“Wrong again,” Ruth said, as though she didn’t hear the dick comment, “It’s The Once and Future King, T.H. White.”
And that made the play fight with Kitty stop faster than anything else could have. He sat up quickly and looked at his sister with wide eyes. She only smiled innocently back at him and then pointed at the words on the paper, showing him the proof.
Erik’s favorite book was, apparently, shared with Prince Charles.
He needed to read more.
“Well, at least you know one thing Emma has told Prince Charles about you,” Kitty commented, “I wonder what else she included?”
Erik looked over at her, wondering if he looked as tired and annoyed as he felt, “Two pets named Kitty and Ruth,” He commented, only to be whacked in the side of the head by a pillow, thanks to both of them.
“Wet the bed until he was seven,” Ruth offered, getting hit in the head by a pillow Erik had acquired for that very purpose.
“Don’t forget the Hello Kitty obsession when he was ten,” Kitty put in and the pillow was redirected her way.
“Oh, and the time Mom caught him putting on her dresses and painting his nails,” Ruth suggested. That one made Erik pause.
“I looked good and I would still do it now if those people out there were intolerant shits,” He stated, “But that doesn’t mean I want Charles to know about it. It could get old hearing someone trying to make fun of me for that.”
“What about when you used to practice making out with-“ And that got Kitty tackled onto the couch before she could finish that sentence. If there was one thing he never wanted his sister to find out about—didn’t want anyone to mention again, ever—it was that.
Erik wasn’t happy as he boarded the plane and it was even worse when he walked off hours later in the merry land of Westchester. With Azazel and Janos right behind him, he was greeted by a man he had never seen before.
“Namor McKenzie,” The man said, looking around at the three of them, “Prince Charles’s equerry.”
Erik stepped back, allowing Azazel and Janos to handle that while he debated what an equerry was. If Prince Charles had one then surely Prince Erik should have one as well. Perhaps this was a matter to bring up with his mother. Did Genosha just not have them? He’d ask Ruth when he got back home and hoped she didn’t have one.
They were led into a car and Erik climbed into the back behind the man, McKenzie. He didn’t say a word, but thankfully no one seemed to expect him to. He suspected that was because of his reputation as a quiet, angry one. He enjoyed the reputation, even if his sister teased him for his brooding.
“Prince Erik,” The man in front of him stated, “There are some papers I need you to sign, an NDA. They’ve already been run by your team. I suspect you know the drill.”
Of course, Erik did. He wondered if Charles was having to sign one for him or if this was a one-way deal. If he said something to Charles would it be open to tell everyone about it? He hoped not, if he signed this then it should keep Charles within the bounds of the contract as well.
He gave it a cursory glance and it seemed to be the basics, not releasing private information about Charles or his family, no posting private photos, no releasing personal or private relationships he may have with Charles. As though that would ever happen. After he read that, he gave up and just signed the paper on the back and added his initials. It wasn’t like there was anything on the paper he was going to do anyway.
Unless disclosure of information included talking to his sister and Kitty about the weekend. That was sure to happen, but it wasn’t like the media would get ahold of information from them. There was plenty the three of them were keeping in absolute secrecy from the rest of the world and this could easily go into those vaults as well.
Before long, the car was slowing down and then stopping outside of a field. There were some reporters standing around and he had Azazel and Janos around him just a second after he stepped out of the car. They were there for photos but there was no point in them getting such a head start without Charles there by his side. The only reason he flew out.
With so many eyes on him, he found himself wondering if he was dressed well enough. Sure the cream trousers and white polo would be good enough for the airport but now there were going to be photos taken by more people than he cared to count. And what about his hair? He ran his fingers through it, trying to get it a careless, messy look, but worried he was just making it worse.
As they made their way closer to the fenced-in area, Erik was shocked and surprised by what he saw. He really didn’t think the prince had it in him. The man was riding on the back of a horse, wearing a helmet—which renewed Erik’s faith in his own hair—and high boots covering the bottom of his white trousers. In Erik’s experience, white trousers and horses didn’t mix, but Charles didn’t seem to be having the problem he always did.
Not that Erik often played polo. In fact, he had no idea how the game was played, but he knew that was what Charles had been doing, judging by the large stick in his hand. He just rode for fun on occasion, heading out into the more undeveloped parts of Genosha with the other two for a chance at getting away from it all.
“Big stick, are you that happy to see me?” Erik asked, motioning to Charles’s hand. He could see the man roll his eyes and could hear groans from Azazel and Janos behind him.
“Always,” Charles replied, “happy to see you sober and much more steady on your feet, that is.”
And then it was time for Erik to roll his eyes. The man was insufferable, acting like he was above it all, better than everyone else. Charles might have been a prince, but he wasn’t the only one in the world.
“Get off your high horse and get down here,” Erik commented, trying to cut the anger and annoyance from his voice. There were people there to listen in, after all. The tone was kept light, and playful, like they were two friends teasing each other and not mortal enemies.
Charles merely climbed from his horse and then walked out of the gate, taking his helmet off and giving his head a shake to fix his hair, that long, brown hair that seemed to get longer every time Erik saw him, leaving him wondering how it didn’t look unruly even now.
Then Charles was standing next to Erik with a smile on his face. It was forced, but so was Erik’s own. As reporters and journalists made their way over, Erik wrapped his arms around Charles, making a show of hugging him, and then Charles did the same after a moment of what Erik took to be a surprise.
“This doesn’t mean I like you anymore,” Erik said softly, his head pressed against Charles’s as he gave him a rather hard pat on the back, making him stumble slightly.
“Believe me,” Charles said, dryly, “The feeling is mutual, darling. Let’s just get this over with so we can both move on with our lives and won’t have to see each other again for a few years.”
“Go fuck yourself,” Erik mumbled, thinking that Charles did not have room to talk about this. It was his fault they were there. And besides, Erik was a fucking delight. He should be happy to spend the weekend with him. Anyone would be.
“We’d be here all day. There is hardly enough time for that in our busy schedule,” Charles returned, pulling back from the hug and putting on a smile while Erik just tried not to look shocked at what he had just heard.
All too soon or, rather, not soon enough, McKenzie was walking over to the two. “If your highnesses are ready to go, I believe there should be more than enough footage of the two of you for the articles.”
Erik immediately let go of Charles, his arms dropping to his sides, and stepped away from him before climbing into the car he had gotten out of only a few minutes later.
The drive to the palace was spent in tense silence with Charles pushed up against Erik’s side, Janos on the other side of Charles, and Azazel up front with McKenzie. Erik had wished for Azazel in the middle but the man had refused. Not that Erik could blame him but he was the prince, damn it, Azazel should do as he said.
Some people insisted that all palaces looked the same. Erik would have to disagree with those people. Maybe it was the simple fact that he grew up in one, but he could see so many differences from the moment he stepped into the building. Not only that, but he could feel the differences.
In Genosha, so much metal went into the palace. Almost the entire thing was made of metal. In Westchester, there was metal, sure, but not nearly as much. He could use it to trace the plumbing, find the kitchen, and feel the bones of the building but it wasn’t coming alive the same way Genosha’s palace did.
And then there were the architectural differences. This was much more…grand. To Erik and his people, there was nothing more wasteful and disgusting than showing off wealth. Sure their palace was large, but not this big. Nor was it as ornate, any of the little decorative pieces they had were made by Erik over the years, carved into the metal, proof of him practicing his powers. Westchester went out of their way to make things grand and beautiful. To Erik, it looked like compensation, trying to make up for something else. It almost hurt him to look at it.
Then again, he was sure that there were a few reasons for the differences. For one, Genosha was considered a poor country, a newer place that still wasn't fully developed. Any money they had went to building shelters, finding resources, and arranging for trade. Meanwhile, places like Westchester had been around for centuries and was well established. They had the excess funds to buy ridiculous, unnecessary things that they didn't need. It was an extravagant country, full of luxuries and things Erik saw no use in.
For once though, he kept his mouth shut, mostly so he wouldn't be reminded of how his country wasn't up to par, and let himself be led to the guest quarters which seemed to fit Erik just a little better. Things were still too grand. In some way, it almost reminded him of the winters before each of his grandparents died. He spent a lot of time in their quarters of the palace. While it wasn’t overly done, there was a certain frilliness to it, an overstuffed bedroom with too many little decorations. Only, for them, the little decorations were things they had collected in their lives. Photos of their family, little souvenirs, things his grandmother knitted or sewed together.
In this palace, it just felt more empty. A façade, not wanting to be seen under. The place reminded him of Charles. Almost too perfect, too generic, if he looked too closely, he would realize the rooms he was staying in were actually empty of personality but full of objects. It was hearing ghosts of the living all over again, no matter how much that didn’t make sense, they were alive and calling out, yet they were no longer themselves.
The room felt like that. At one time, there might have been personality, Erik was sure someone lived in the rooms years ago. There was a story there, but it kept sliding from his fingers anytime he tried to grasp it. Not loud enough for him to listen, too loud to let him sleep.
As usual, when he couldn’t find sleep, no matter how hard he tried, Erik found himself in the kitchen, snooping around. Most of the time, back home, it would be loading up on coffee and settling in to do some of his homework. Research for a paper, maybe even write the paper, depending on how much coffee he decided to drink that night and how interesting the paper was. Now though, he didn’t have his laptop with him, so there would be no writing.
Before he came over to Westchester, he was given the chance to select foods he wanted, drinks, anything. Yet, for some reason, his search for coffee turned to finding tea. Going after beer from Genosha only led to Westchester scotch. It wasn’t what he wanted—he was certain it was better quality than the beer he wanted—but he found himself opening the bottle and pouring himself a glass anyway.
A loud sound made him jump before he realized it was his phone, so he pulled it out, and answered before taking a sip of his, admittedly good, scotch.
“How are things going?” Kitty’s voice asked from over the phone as her face popped up on the screen.
Erik sighed, “Well enough I suppose. There’s no coffee in this kitchen at all and I can’t get a beer, but they gave me scotch.”
“Free alcohol and a day spent with the Prince of Westchester? Sounds like your day just keeps getting better and better,” She replied and Erik did his best to glare at her over his phone as he laid it down on the counter.
“Add about seventy-five percent more sarcasm and then I’d be willing to agree with you. Honestly, I signed a fifty-page NDA, I hugged him and now I’m here. None of this makes any sense.” Erik said, gesturing with the hand his glass was in, knowing he was exaggerating, but that wasn’t going to stop him. It never did.
“Must have been one long hug. You’ve been gone for…fifteen hours and I know you didn’t spend that long looking over an NDA. What was on that thing anyway?” She asked, looking affronted at the amount of pages.
“Okay, there were maybe five pages. And the basics, don't tell any gossip, don’t film the inside of the palace, though I have half a mind to show you around the guest quarters right now. Don’t fuck him and tell the media about it. Nothing that I was planning on doing anyway. I just want to know if he has many of those signed.” Did Charles carry them around with him anywhere he went? Was there someone waiting at any hotel he stayed at, just outside the door, holding a stack of NDAs if he wanted to bring someone back?
“Oh, delightful,” Kitty said with a smile and Erik could tell this was something she was going to have fun with. “So, do you think he was planning on fucking you? Is that why you’re there? The real reason, he’s been after you all these years like some kind of playground crush?”
Erik rolled his eyes, “Please, like I would ever go for that. You know my type, Kitty, don’t insult me.”
She looked at him, amused, “You’re right Erik, I do know your type. Shorter than you, blue eyes, brown hair-“ He turned off the phone before she could continue. If he was being honest, he wasn’t even listening to what she was saying. There was something else that had caught his attention.
Turning around, he looked around the room, just in time to see Charles freeze at the door of the kitchen. His hair was sticking up at strange angles, no longer the natural, easy look he had going on before. He was wearing soft-looking blue checked pajama pants and a solid blue long sleeved shirt with his arms crossed over his chest. It might have been an intimidating look, if he wasn’t trying to fold in on himself. He was small enough anyway, but he seemed to be trying to look smaller.
For once, Erik found himself thinking of the man in front of him as just that. A man. No longer some fake human who was turned on at the start of every day to wave and look conventionally attractive.
“Sorry,” Charles said softly, “I came for some tea. I ran out and thought there might be some in here.” He unfolded himself and slowly walked into the room, going over to the cabinet where Erik had already discovered the tea bags and found one of his own.
“You got up, out of bed, in the middle of the night, just for tea?” Erik asked, and he was sure there was disgust in his voice when he mentioned the drink. He couldn’t help it, leaf water never interested him. If it was served to him he would drink it, but only because it was the only option. If he could turn it down, he certainly would.
Charles gave a half shrug and continued padding around the room, getting a kettle and filling it with water before placing it on the stove. “Yeah. It wasn’t like I was doing much sleeping. And tea always helps me relax,” He turned and looked at Erik, once the kettle was over the heat. “I could ask you what you’re doing up right now.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” Erik replied, “Came looking for coffee or beer, couldn’t find either, but I found this,” He raised the bottle next to him. At least I’m in the kitchen I’m supposed to be in, that should leave you with considerably fewer questions.”
“I told you, I was out,” Charles said, sounding exasperated. “I drink a lot of tea. Sometimes I don’t think people here realize how much.”
Erik wondered if that was a Charles thing or a Westchester thing. He knew a lot of people here drank it but did they really drink it that much? Surely other people agreed with his views on tea. Coffee was endlessly better.
“Coffee is endlessly bitter, you mean,” Charles corrected, getting the kettle off the stove once it started to whistle and then pouring the water into his prepared cup. Then he made his way over to Erik, who was frozen in what he hoped wasn’t fear. Only Charles reached for the bottle of scotch and poured some into his tea before adding sugar and stirring.
“Tea just tastes like dirty water,” Erik insisted, “Coffee has a flavor to it. Besides, I like the bitterness.”
“Bitter, just like you. I suppose that matches your personality,” Charles commented and Erik realized that, even with no one there, the tone of Charles’s voice was light, teasing. No real bite to the words. It was strange and something they hadn’t done before.
He didn’t respond and, for a while, they just stood there in silence until Charles turned back to him. “Are you ready for tomorrow? Prepared for anything that could come up? Should we talk about that?” His words were quiet, matching the stillness of the night, but Erik couldn’t allow that to last for too long.
“No, I think I’ve got it,” Erik replied, “I’ve memorized everything there is to know about you. I trust you’ve done the same about me. We’ll go in there, do this interview, and get it over with.”
“There are still other things we need to do besides the interview. The social media posts, the photos, the charity-“ He stopped talking as he saw Erik reaching for his phone. “What are you doing?”
“This,” Erik replied, lining up the shot, his glass, Charles’s mug, the bottle of whiskey, and their hands wrapped around their drinks, knuckles touching. He decided to ignore the warmth coming off Charles’s hands and pretend that it was only from the hot tea. The photo was taken, “What should we go with? Something cheesy for the world to talk about? Nothing like late night talks with HRH Charles. You’ll never guess how the prince takes his tea.” Even as he said the words, he was typing them out and then posting it. “One down, one to go, and you get to handle it.”
“I suppose that’s fair,” Charles replied with a small sigh. Still, he didn’t move to leave, just stood next to Erik who was growing more tense and uncomfortable by the second.
“I have a phone call to get back to,” Erik mumbled before turning and walking out of the kitchen, leaving Charles alone as he fled to the bedroom. Not that he even bothered to call Kitty back that night.
All Erik could think about as they made their way to the interview was how he would be back home by that night. He could get back in time for his classes, no more of this nonsense. No more of not having a place to be himself. He knew there were times when he had to put on the mask, be all polite, and fake a smile, but at least in Genosha, he could lock his bedroom door and be alone for a few minutes or spend time with Ruth and Kitty without people from the outside watching and judging him.
He watched as people came and went around Charles, one fixing his hair, one doing touch-ups on his face, stuff was being sprayed, his clothes straightened. At one point, Erik saw someone push a pill into his mouth but decided to look away. That seemed like something he shouldn’t mention from the NDA and something he would have to report if someone asked.
All he had to do was step out of the car behind Charles, put on a smile—not his real one, the one most people were afraid of— and then wrap an arm around Charles. It only took the smaller man a moment to relax, lean into the touch slightly, and wrap his arm around Erik’s shoulders. People around them watched and cheered, trying to get their attention as they pushed their way through—or the guards did—and they entered the building.
Erik could safely say he had never been in a place like this before. Just like everything else, it was different in Westchester than it was in Genosha. The people hosting the show included. They seemed too bright, too colorful, too much.
Standing on the sidelines, Erik watched as Charles put on the mask he wore for the world, the one he was beginning to think was just that. A mask to hide his true self, but this wasn’t the time for that kind of introspection. Charles walked out and greeted the hosts with a smile and a handshake before sitting down.
Then it was Erik’s turn to do the same. The charming smile he always wore for public events, the one that seemed to be a part of his suit at this point. He toned down his feelings, and pushed past his emotions, until there was nothing but calm, cool, collected, charm left.
His eyes took in the area, the man and woman hosting, the audience watching them. Charles sitting next to him and the way the blue of his vest seemed to bring out his eyes, which only led to him looking at Charles’s lips, realizing that he was staring at Erik and his lips were moving. He was being asked a question and he had no idea what they were talking about.
“We love spending time together, don’t we?” Charles asked, putting on a smile, as Erik snapped back into his body, just in time to smile a little brighter and nod.
“We do, though it’s not something we get to do often,” He replied, “We’ve realized over the years that we have rather a lot in common.”
“Oh,” The woman said, her attention now off of Charles and fully on him, “What would that be? What do you two do when you spend time together?” Erik wished he could have just kept his big mouth shut.
It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts, but hopefully not suspiciously long. “We both have the same favorite book, for example. We both like to ride horses, when we get the chance, though we haven’t found time in the schedule to do that yet. And we’re both fond of chess.” Did Charles like chess? It felt like something he should like, if he didn’t. Erik could get him interested, if it came down to that.
“We do,” Charles said, seeming to perk up a little at that, as though he was coming to life and Erik hadn’t even realized how subdued he had been acting until then. “I always win, of course.”
“In your dreams, Xavier,” Erik replied before he could stop himself, his attention fully on the prince next to him, who was smiling happily at him. “We both know I can kick your ass at chess any day.”
“You are on, my friend,” Charles said back before they were interrupted. It was for the best that the interview was over anyway, before one of them did or said something they would be in trouble for. Besides, if nothing else, Erik was certain they got their point across.
Erik tended to love things like this but now, he just couldn’t wait for it to be over. Young mutants were at the top of his list of people he wanted to help. Children who didn’t know their worth, their potential. He felt a personal need to help them, show them how to go, and what to do, not to let humans push them around and degrade them.
With Charles by his side, as they made their way into the orphanage, he just wanted to run. He found himself wondering if the kids were going to be different, were they going to be stuck up the way the people of Westchester seemed to all be? Of course, he immediately felt bad for thinking that, but as long as no one else knew about the thought he would be okay.
Of course, that was the moment he met Charles’s gaze and realized there was a telepath right beside him. One that seemed to know well what he was thinking and was mildly disgusted by it. Erik tried to explain that he was just trying to find out what to expect, and what was going to happen. It didn’t seem to phase Charles though, as he just looked away. Erik wondered why he was even trying to explain himself to Charles of all people.
They were introduced to the children as soon as they were inside. A room full of children and teens, most with physical mutations who had just been left at the orphanage and forgotten. Missed over and over by the system, looking downtrodden and sad. It was then that Erik stepped into his role, the one he always took on back home when confronted with children like these, ones that didn't have a home, or didn’t have a family. Those who needed encouragement and to see that they were just as worthy as everyone else.
He left Charles standing by the door, looking around at all the faces on him. He started at one side of the room, talking to a little girl with purple scales. It was easy for him to talk to children. They said what was on their mind, open and honest, none of that lying, trying to be nice, faking emotions shit adults did. An easy smile was on his face as he searched a box nearby that was filled with clothes, finding a few options in the girl's size and passing them to her as she rambled on about how yellow was her favorite color and people kept telling her not to wear it because it didn’t go with the purple. Just for that, he made sure there was a yellow t-shirt in what he gave her.
Soon enough, he looked over to see Charles had started on the other side of the room, talking to a little boy who had a set of horns. Something pulled at his chest but Erik didn’t know why. He was fairly certain he had read about Charles’s feelings on visible mutations and that they should be hidden. He was good at hiding that now, it would seem, laughing with the boy, his blue eyes shining, catching the light just right.
As they got closer, Erik could hear what Charles was talking to the children about. An Avengers shirt was pulled out of the box and a little boy—who had bright pink hair—lit up. Erik knew immediately the hair wasn’t a fashion choice, it was a mutation. His eyebrows and the sparse hair on his arms were a matching shade.
“Spider-Man!” The little boy called, grabbing the shirt from him and holding it to his chest. Erik was certain he if thought about it for longer than a second, there would be tears in his eyes. “He’s my favorite.”
“A good choice,” Charles said softly, smiling at the boy, “I think he’s one of my favorites as well. Brave, kind, friendly. Definitely someone I think makes a good role model.”
“Who’s your favorite?” The boy asked back and Charles hummed, taking a moment to consider. He was putting an act on about it, stroking his chin.
“Captain America, I think,” He replied, “Just a regular guy who became a superhero. Honorable, strong, worthy. If I have to have a favorite, it’ll be him.”
Erik had to pull himself out of it to move on to the next child, he couldn’t just sit there and watch Charles work for the rest of the time they were going to be spending there. People were going to be going around after them, handing out other things, school supplies, a box of toys had been brought in for the children to go through and some of the younger ones had already made their way over and started.
It took a few hours for them to get through everyone in the room. Anything they had left was being kept by the orphanage for the kids as they grew or needed new clothes. Not that there was much left. Erik made a mental note to send more money back, just for that. They were clearly underfunded and could use anything they got.
Side by side, he and Charles smiled at the children, giving a wave to them before they started for the door. Azazel behind them, McKenzie and Janos in front. They had barely started for the door when screaming was heard from the direction they had come, followed by a loud crash.
Erik turned immediately, ready to run back in the direction they had just come. He worried something happened to the children, they were being attacked or hurt. He needed to get back to them, to make sure they were okay, and protect them.
Before he could make it a single step, Janos had opened a door, McKenzie had pushed Charles inside and Azazel’s heavy hand landed on Erik’s chest. A solid push backward left him falling into the small room, right on top of Charles. He opened his mouth but the door was slammed shut and he heard Azazel lean back against it, apparently an attempt to seem casual that just seemed unprofessional to Erik.
“Jesus Christ, get off of me,” Charles grunted as he pushed at Erik, trying to move him to the side, or move out from under him but Erik wasn’t sure where he was going. “You’re so-so sharp.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, your majesty. Should I crush my bones for you? Would that make it less painful?” He asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he tried to roll onto his side, getting off of Charles the best he could.
“Yes, it would make it better, honestly,” Charles countered, trying to shift onto his side as well, sliding around, elbows to ribs, knee to the crotch, shoulder in the face, until they eventually settled down side by side.
The two looked at each other and Erik couldn’t find out why he was breathing so heavily. He was in shape, moving around on the floor wasn’t that much work. He shouldn’t have been affected at all.
“You know, this never happens to me when you’re not around,” Charles stated, looking over at Erik. As though there was anywhere else he could look, facing him in an attempt to make enough room for them both.
“And I could say the same about you,” Erik replied, “Honestly, doesn't it sound like a terrible idea to lock us in here? If it was just a kid, they could have brought down the entire building by accident. Evacuating would have been the smart way to go.”
“And if it wasn’t a child?” Charles countered, raising an eyebrow. “What if someone knew we would be here and was targeting us? Maybe they wanted us dead?”
Erik looked at Charles, “Okay, that was darker than I thought you were going to go,” He admitted, “People always say Genosha is underdeveloped and poor, but if that’s what you have to worry about here, I don't think I want us to be making any improvements. We go out and walk up and down the streets, if someone wants to shoot us they can try. Unless they have plastic bullets, I’ll put a stop to it before anyone is hurt. Except for the shooter.”
“Oh, please,” Charles rolled his eyes, “Like you lot have streets. I’ve seen the dirt and gravel roads you have over there. Besides, like I said, this has never happened to me before. Not that we’re going out and walking around without someone walking around with us, even if I am a telepath.”
Erik shrugged. He wasn’t giving up his freedom, nor was Ruth or Kitty—who he was sure could let a bullet pass through her without a problem.
Charles sighed after a moment of them falling into silence. “I think we’re going to be stuck here for a while,” He said, sounding as sad and irritated about it as Erik felt. He really needed to make it to the airport, catch his flight, and make it back to Genosha in time for his classes in the morning. Preferably with enough time to sleep and not fail his essay. “Shall we make the most of it?” Charles asked, “We don’t know much about each other, after all.”
“I know everything on your paper I was given,” Erik countered, sighing. Charles had already bored him with this topic. The same way he bored him with everything else.
Charles gave him an unamused look. “For starters, not much on that paper was true. And that isn’t everything about either of us. Personally, I’m wondering why you hate me so much. No one else does, so what made me your personal enemy.”
Erik laughed, rather loudly, only to get Charles’s hand clapped over his mouth. “In case you have forgotten, we’re locked in this closet for a reason. On the off chance that someone is out there trying to murder us, do be quiet before I make you.” The hand disappeared from his mouth just to wiggle his fingers next to his head.
“If you’re going to use your powers for that, why didn’t you just use them to find out what my problem is with you?” Erik asked, amazed by the man in front of him and he wasn’t sure it was a good kind of amazed.
“Because I would rather hear it from you,” Charles said simply, looking at Erik, an eyebrow quirked, waiting for him to talk.
Erik sighed, “Do you remember the first time we met?” He asked, thinking back on the moment he remembered all too well. It felt to him like he was meeting a friend, he had heard so much about the prince who was close to him in age. But also, an idol of some kind. He had seen the boy’s picture time and time again. The poster his sister had in her room. The one Erik would find himself thinking about. The one he would sneak into her room and just look at from time to time, trying to think about what it would be like to be face-to-face with him. They would have some much in common, both princes, both living similar lives.
Then they met and all of those hopes for a friend who he could relate to were crushed. Charles was stuck up, looking down at Erik—he was standing on steps, Erik was definitely taller—he just had an air about him that let Erik know everything he thought about him.
“That gala, I was, what? Five?” Charles asked, as though he didn’t know but Erik could tell he remembered it better than he was acting.
“Yeah, I was seven. I walked up and introduced myself. You said,” He put on a fake Westchester accent and a tone of mild disgust, “Yes, hello,” back to his normal voice, “and then turned away from me, walking off. At that moment I realized you were nothing but a spoiled, stuck-up, rich kid.”
“I’ll forgive you, since you were a child and probably weren’t keeping up with current events,” Charles stated and looked at him, aghast. As though he would ever apologize for something that wasn't his fault. He struggled enough apologizing when it was his fault. “But it had been around three months since I had found my father with a hole in his head and my mother was already engaged to a man I hated. I wasn’t exactly having the easiest time processing as a five-year-old.”
And, okay, now that he thought about it, the timelines did add up. Maybe that was something he should have looked into before. But still, that didn’t explain the look of disgust, as though a Genoshan wasn’t worth his time. He opened his mouth to say something—what, he didn’t know, but before he could get a single word out, Charles was interrupting him.
“That couldn’t possibly be all. There has to be something else you have against me. Get it all out, Erik. What else do you hate about me?” He asked, and Erik saw this as permission.
“You hate anyone with a physical mutation,” He started and Charles laughed loudly this time, as though he couldn’t possibly keep it in. Erik didn’t know what was so funny about that. When he was young he didn’t keep up with things but in recent years, he certainly did.
“I don’t, and it’s funny you think that,” Charles said, “Did you know Raven is a shapeshifter? Her natural form is blue with scales. I can’t say I don’t…sometimes…encourage her to be in a human form, but only because I know it would be easier for her that way. Less trouble, less hatred, less anger directed her way. Plus, she’s taken to walking around naked when she’s in her blue form. That’s not something I enjoy seeing. I do wish she would at least put on underwear.”
That wasn’t something Erik was expecting to learn about. He shouldn’t be surprised, really, he knew how the press could alter things so easily. And maybe he had said that and it was taken fully out of context. Still, “I think we should be free and not have to hide, not have to live in fear of what humans think about us.”
“I don’t think we should be walking around naked,” Charles said, “but I can understand wanting to be able to use our powers. But the thing about being a telepath, I’m used to even mutants being against me. It’s not just the humans, as you say, that are the problem. Some of us are hypocrites too. I’ve read about your dreams of a fully mutant society. It sounds beautiful, but I don’t think it’s the way to go. We shouldn’t separate ourselves from those without mutations. We should all live together.”
“We shouldn’t feel we have to live apart from them. We shouldn’t live in fear. We do though and so we need a safe place to live without fear. What I want, my dreams for my country are about giving our kind the place they need. We are the next stage in human evolution. We shouldn’t be cowering and hiding.”
The door opened before Charles could say anything, Azazel was looking down at the two of them, but mostly at Charles as he said, “I figure you would prefer to risk your life out here than listen to Erik go on about his mutant utopia. It gets tiresome after a while.”
“You agree with me,” Erik said, sending a confused look his way, wondering why Azazel was saying something like that. He had never seemed to mind before.
“I agree with you,” Azazel stated, “That doesn’t mean I don’t get tired of hearing about it sixteen hours a day seven days a week. Now come on before I close this door and lock it, leaving you both here.”
Standing outside of Westchester palace, Erik had his phone in his hand, sending off quick-fire messages. One to his sister, then Kitty, then his mother and father. Each to let them know what happened and that he was heading for the airport. Or that was the plan, anyway. Until, mid-word, his phone was no longer in his hand and, instead, in Charles’s. He looked over, watching as the man opened his contacts and typed in a number before holding it back to him.
“It just seems easier,” Charles stated, “We can talk to each other directly. Cut out the middle man, no one else would have to arrange things for us. That’s always bothered me, it’s like asking for approval in order to do anything.”
Erik couldn’t help but nod and save the number before finishing his messages. “I suppose I’ll be in touch then,” He said to Charles before he was being carted off to the airport once again, to go back home and try to finish his paper in time for his class the next day. A prince could never sleep.