#genoshan husbands | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wyslyyzr · 3 years

Text

a vague timeline for things because marvel is fucked all across the board and i need some sense of continuity + solidifiying my past headcanons--this is close to what i had ran with in the past, just typed up again.

1930: max eisenhardt is born in dusseldorf, germany. the eisenhardt family moves shortly thereafter to nuremburg; max has no memories of dusseldorf. this is the place his parents were born as well. reasonably, max considers nuremburg his home town.

1933: ruth eisenhardt is born in nuremberg, germany, max’s younger and final sibling.

1935-1938: max meets magda, the daughter of one of the lady janitors at the school he attended.

1939: the eisenhardts, following an antisemitic outburst that shamed and injured max’s uncle erich, and a violent interaction with jakob’s former general from the first world war where he was beaten and thrown out of his office, and, finally, kristallnacht, move to warsaw in an attempt to escape the anti-jewish tensions.

1940: the warsaw ghetto is built around them.

1940-1942: the very young max turns into a food smuggler in the warsaw ghetto, acquiescing meals for both his family members and other jewish families with other boys. he has his bar mitsvah sometime in this period, despite not being 13, given the direness of the situation.

1942: deportation to the treblinka camps begins. the eisenhardts flee yet again. on their way back to their hideout, they are captured by nazi regiment. the eisenhardts are executed, but jakob saves his son’s life by butting him out of the line of the bullets. regardless, max is knocked unconscious, and brought to a mass grave where he is dumped alongside his family.

1942-1944: max is found alive in the camp, and put to work for his impressively sturdy frame despite the harrow of starvation. in order to avoid being selected for death, max becomes a sonderkommando.

1942-1944: this bit is a bit of influence from the xmcu, but something i’ve always incorporated into my canon regardless; max’s mutant abilities laid nearly dormant due to physical illness contracted from exertion and malnourishment, however, in moments of grief and anger, they were still strong enough to rear up. more than once, he’d injured officers, and killed one on accident out of fear. instead of being executed, josef mengele and doctor sinister took interest in him and conducted various physical experiments. when they could not produce the same effects, he was sent back to the work force.

late 1944: max participates in the sonderkommando rebellion, escaping not only alongside other sonderkommandos, but magda, who had happened to also be interned in the camps. 14 and 15 respectively, they spend the rest of their teens together, and most of their 20s.

1950: anya eisenhardt is born. max marries magda two months into her pregnancy.

1957: the identity of “erik magnus lehnsherr” is created by georg odekirk, however i do not implement the idea that erik posed as rroma to “fit in” with the rroma community since i think its kinda.. bad. he’s accepted as his wife’s husband and a jewish man. max becomes erik to protect himself and his family.

1959: the eisenhardts--now lehnsherrs--move to vinnitsa, a then-soviet region, in order to pursue stable work, as erik became dissatisfied with only scraping by to provide for their daughter. he acquires a construction job in the summer, where he worked for another few months before the next incident.

fall of 1959: erik consciously uses his abilities for the first time, hurling a crowbar at his boss over a pay dispute. when he returns to the inn where he and his family had been staying, he finds it aflame, and anya trapped inside. when he makes an attempt to free her, he is held down by the security his boss had employed, evoked over their dispute, and is forced to watch anya burn to death. finally, in an explosion of 29 years of grief and anger, catalyzed by the loss of his child, erik’s abilities fully emerge. not only does he kill everyone in the immediate vicinity he deems responsible for the event, including anyone who happened to become caught in the detritus and obstructions, he levels more than half of the city. in the ruins and ash, he finds anya’s scorched body and digs a grave with his hands to bury his daughter, where magda in the wake of his destruction approaches him horrified by his actions. he asks her to help him bury their daughter, and in her fear, she proclaims him a monster before fleeing, unknown to either of them, pregnant with the twins. erik is approached by another regiment of soldiers who attempt to shoot him in the head. he turns their guns on them instead, finishes burying and honoring his daughter, and spends some time searching for magda, whom he never finds. after a few days of unsuccessfully looking for his wife, erik packs what little he has left and travels from the leveled vinnitsa to haifa, israel.

1960: erik volunteers at a hospital in haifa that predominantly focused on helping other survivors of the shoah, where he seeks some modicum of treatment himself, and meets none other than charles xavier.

1961: after helping charles rescue gabi, erik realizes he and charles’ views are incompatible, and departs from haifa. he is eventually scouted by both the israeli secret service and a western outfit (likely the CIA) whilst hunting nazi war criminals.

1962: erik hunts nazi war criminals and turns them over to israel for trial. i don’t really feel like going into detail about this one because its a little convoluted but basically erik is “allowed” to turn over certain nazis that are deemed acceptable to turn over to israel by his western control, but when he turns over a nazi that the west does not want him to turn over, agents show up to put an end to his “betrayals”, where he learns the truth of what they were doing and freaks out in a rage and kills them all, where he finally adopts the identity of “magneto”. he moves to brooklyn, new york, in the same year.

1964: erik meets cassandra michaels, who designs his outfit. this is where this timeline gets fucked to hell because i have to work with 60 years of super old dumbass comics that characterize erik as a super hammy archetypical villain when thats not the character he develops into.

this post is going to be SUPER LONG so this is a placeholder for me to edit and continue it later in detail. take these points as general points for the future before i write them out fully.

late 60s is the first instance of asteroid m shit

the 1970s and 80s are the brotherhood heyday before the x-men really exist and they’re the only public figures saving and protecting mutants while also executing violent resistance to mutant oppression.

early o5 era is around 1990-1999

dark phoenix saga around 2000

genosha massacre mid 2000s. the “magneto was right” movement begins around this date as well, and che guevara-type merchandise starts sprouting up.

m day and civil war in 2008-ish, a few years following the genoshan massacre.

utopia around 2011.

avx around 2014.

#and i will do more LATER.#-- JUST LOOK AT ALL THAT WE HAVE MADE. | HEADCANONS.#long post #shoah tw #child death tw

25 notes · View notes

sareyen · 2 years

Text

A Faerlie Big Misunderstanding (Chapter 1/?)

Read on ao3 here

Summary: Erik is the Chosen One, destined to slay the evil faerie that lives deep within the Dark Forest. Charles is the supposedly evil faerie that lives deep within the Dark Forest. But, the adorable, blue-eyed and sunshine-smiled faerie was the furthest thing from evil Erik has ever had the pleasure of meeting in his life. So, instead of killing the evil faerie, the only acceptable thing for Erik to do is fall in love with him instead.

Or: Erik is the Chosen One destined to kill the evil faerie, and Charles is supposedly this evil faerie, but is actually just a cottagecore gay who just wants to live in peace. And of course, they fall in love.

Legend has it that, when the Chosen One was born, the Evil One would return. An evil faerie with the power to corrupt minds, plunging the world into darkness. Defeated once centuries ago by the first ruler of Genosha, King Klaus, the Evil One has been waiting, biding his time and collecting his strength, waiting for the day he could complete the destruction he was denied once.

Erik has heard stories about the Evil One since he was young, like all Genoshan children. Parents whispered tales of the Evil One to their children before bed, warning that if they misbehave the dark faerie would steal into their rooms and fill their minds with nightmares. Children played make-believe games, pretending to slay their friends dressed in the dark cloth of the Evil One, banishing him like the First King did all those years ago.

But unlike these children that waved around wooden sticks like they were swords, Erik was born with the power to control metal. Not only could he bend steel and crush iron, his might stronger than that of a thousand soldiers, he was the only one who could forge and wield the sacred sword that would be commanded by no other master.

Yes, Erik was the Chosen One, born with the power to kill the Evil One.

And since the Chosen One was born, the Evil One would return.

As such, it was his destiny to destroy it, once and for all.

***

King Shaw rescued Erik when he was a boy no taller than his waist from amongst the ash and carnage of his small farming village. Though the Evil One was in hibernation, his loyal subjects razed the earth in his name. Amongst these monsters, none were more feared than his Horsemen, monsters with powers second only to the Evil One himself. A demon the colour of blood that could disappear like a phantom, a monster made of wind that could flatten villages with a huff, a flying witch that could melt the faces off any man that gazed upon her, and a deceivingly beautiful succubus who could dismember an entire army with ice-cold apathy.

It had been a normal day, the bright sunshine and serene chirping of birds giving no warning of the nightmare that was to come. Erik had been helping his father feed the cattle as his mother tended to the garden, smiling as she watched her husband and son in the field. Erik had turned to his mother just in time to see her smile morph into a look of pure horror, her watering can falling to the ground as she rushed forward, crying something unintelligible.

“Erik!” his father screamed, pushing Erik away just as his chest was impaled by a demon-like tail, blood spurting forth and blanketing everything in red.

“Papa…?” Erik whispered, following his father’s gaze to his mother, who was halfway across the field and desperately screaming.

A puff of smoke, and then another cry of pain as a red demon appeared behind his mother in a blink, bloodied tail wrapped around her neck.

Crack.

Erik didn’t even see the moment his mother’s body crumpled to the ground lifelessly, neck bent unnaturally and eyes glassy, for suddenly he was no longer on his family farm but suspended in the air. His thin body was held tightly in a coiled red tail that dripped with his father’s blood, the smell of sulfur suffocating his lungs as he screamed.

And then it was chaos.

Twin tornadoes tore through the straw huts and ramshackle barns, leaving nothing but splinters in their wake. Villagers screamed and wailed, each panicked cry soon snuffed out into nothing as heads rolled and faces melted.

Erik could only watch in frozen terror as everything he knew was destroyed in a matter of minutes.

And then, as quickly as he had been taken, Erik’s feet were on the ground. That didn’t not last long, Erik falling to his knees as he retched, the smell of blood and smoke making his eyes sting as his stomach emptied, spew running clear.

A heavily accented voice laughed – a laugh of a demon – and murmured amusedly in his ear.

“We’ll be coming for you soon, boy. It’s only a matter of time,” he cackled, before disappearing in another puff of smoke.

It could have been mere minutes or a thousand hours by the time King Shaw found Erik, curled up in a ball covered in soot and his own vomit.

When Erik’s bleary, bloodshot eyes opened, he saw the man sitting on a pristine white horse looking down at him, regal robes fluttering in the wind, seemingly untouched by the death and destruction that surrounded him.

“Halt! Look for survivors and canvass the area, the devils may not have gotten far!” the man ordered, jumping down from his horse and striding over to Erik, who had managed to pull himself up to kneel, tears still streaming down his face. “Come, someone! Tend to this poor lad!”

“Y-Your Highness…” Erik croaked, the King waving his hands as someone wrapped a blanket around Erik’s trembling shoulders.

“Young boy, it’s alright now. Tell me, what happened here?”

“The Evil One,” Erik choked out, rubbing at his eyes, turning his head up to stare at the King, who raised a brow. “He killed everyone. He killed… my parents.”

“My, my. You poor thing,” the King said, patting the boy’s shoulder and squeezing it tightly. “It seems that you have nowhere to go.”

Erik shook his head, turning to what remained of his home. Erik forced his tears to dry, small hands balling up into tight fists, dirt-caked nails almost drawing blood in his palm. His gaze averted, he didn’t see the way King Shaw’s thin lips curled up into a smile, one that did not reach his eyes.

“You are angry. I can see it. If my home was destroyed, my family murdered, I would be angry too. But anger is good, young boy. You can use that anger, let it fuel you. Fuel you to destroy the one that destroyed everything you hold dear,” King Shaw said, drawing Erik’s attention back to him.

Erik was silent for a moment, drinking in the King’s words, that fire in his empty belly surging forward, all consuming.

“Use my anger…” Erik echoed, the King nodding with a small smile. “To kill the Evil One?”

“Yes,” the King said, holding out a hand to the boy. “And I can help you, Erik. I can give you everything you need to kill it.”

Without hesitation, Erik took the King’s hand.

***

Twenty Years Later

“You have trained all your life for this task,” King Shaw’s voice echoed over Erik’s head from where he kneeled, helmet tucked under his arm and hand gripping onto his sword. The sacred sword. The metal hummed under his fingertips, helping soothe his thundering heart. Similarly, the helmet under his arm felt cool to the touch, tempering the heat under Erik’s skin.

Both were forged by Erik himself, the only one able to manipulate the sacred metal able to repel the Evil One’s mind magic. No fire, not even the Hellfire that burned under the heart of Genosha, was able to smelt the magical ore, and yet with a mere tug of Erik’s power he was able to forge the only armour and weapons that could stand a chance against the dark faerie.

“Erik, you know what you have to do,” King Shaw continued, the gaudy golden crown atop his head gleaming under the harsh Genoshan sun.

Erik did know what he had to do. He has woken up every morning with only his mission in mind. Every beating in the training ring, every bruise, every cut, every drop of blood and sweat spilled was all for this mission.

His destiny.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Erik said, bowing his head. “I will not fail you.”

“Of course you will not fail! Do not dare to return without the Evil One’s head!” King Shaw said, snapping his fingers, the armoured soldiers in the wings stomping their feet and spears. “People of Genosha! Today, we enter a new age, one where we no longer tremble in fear of the Evil One, who resides deep within the Dark Forest! Today, we will accomplish what my ancestors failed! Today, we shall claim victory!”

The soldiers roared as Erik rose, slowly lowering the sacred helmet over his head.

Erik turned his face towards the sky, thinking of his parents and the distant memory of his childhood.

I’ll kill the Evil One, even if I have to die in the process.

***

They had been walking deeper into the Dark Forest for three days, but had not seen a single soul. Not a single ghost, nor phantom, nor flesh-eating monster. Under the canopy of plush green trees, leaves obscuring the sun, all Erik could hear was the trudging of an army of feet and clanging of armour.

While Erik could see the soldiers around him beginning to become complacent, no longer walking in unison and eyes wandering around aimlessly, Erik remained alert.

That’s why he was the only one who could react when all hell broke loose.

“Formation!” Erik yelled, but his voice was drowned out by the screaming of the soldiers around him as a powerful red light scorched its way across the ground, opening up a deep chasm in the ground that seemed to swallow the soldiers up.

“Formation, damn it!” Erik ordered, before letting out a pained grunt as a piercing screech cut through the air, trees shaking wildly. The sound brought Erik to his knees, ears rattling under his helmet.

Erik couldn’t help but be reminded of that horrible day, the screams of the soldiers around him no different from those of his desperate parents, of the farmers and villagers that screamed as they perished.

Erik grit his teeth, pulling out his sword as his other arm stretched out, his power rushing forth.

The swords that had scattered across the ground from the fallen soldiers rose up before scattering, flashes of metal darting through the forest, searching for their elusive targets.

“Woah, what the heck?!” a shrill male voice yelped from above, Erik latching on to the sound as he crushed his fist together, the swords answering his orders and flipping in the air, all racing towards the enemy voice. “Oh, shit!”

“Sean, shut up!” another male voice called from the distance, Erik straining as his power pulsed.

As the storm of swords cut through the leaves, green falling down like rain, a sudden burst of that blinding red light snapped through the trees once again, hitting the swords and deflecting them downwards to spear the ground.

“Shit, that must be him! Oops, time to go!” the first voice said, drifting off as the figure darted away.

“Hey! Come back here, monster!” Erik growled, feet pounding on the ground as he rushed towards the disappearing voice.

The soldiers screamed all around him, slowly dropping off one by one, but Erik remained steadfast as he continued rushing forwards towards his obsession. As Erik edged forwards, there was a shimmer of some sort of barrier, likely meaning that Erik had stumbled into the Evil One’s den. Finally.

It wasn’t long before Erik broke through the last line of trees, hissing as his eyes were assaulted by the strong rays of sun that were no longer obscured by the forest. The cries of the soldiers were also rendered silent, almost eerily so, and Erik felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight, muscles coiling in anticipation.

Erik narrowed his eyes, scanning his surroundings, before his steps paused in confusion.

From the stories, the den of the Evil One was supposed to be a place of complete misery and death. There should be rivers of blood, but all Erik could see in the distance was a serene lake that glistened azure blue. There should be skulls scattered across the ground like pebbles, but under Erik’s feet was vibrant green grass speckled with daisies. And, there should be corpses strung up on pikes, rotting away in the sun, but instead there were merely trees adorned with fragrant fruit neatly lining a perfectly kept walkway.

A walkway that led to a… cottage?

The cottage was unassuming and homely, walls made of stone and wood, roof of tightly packed straw. Ivy climbed in free disarray up one side, while the other was covered by cloth where an apparent hole had been blasted through. Flowers of every colour blossomed around the cottage, a rainbow rising from the ground. A light plume of smoke was drifting languidly into the air from the stone chimney, wisps disappearing into the pastel sky.

This was nothing like the den of the Evil One of lore.

“What…” Erik murmured to himself, eyes darting side to side, expecting attackers to spring from behind the perfectly pruned hedges.

Erik’s words were cut off as his senses sharpened the moment the cottage door creaked open as he approached, an invitation.

Erik’s lips parted in a tight grin, hand tightening around the hilt of his sword, fingers of his other hand twitching, ready to latch on to any metal at the first sign of the Evil One.

“Oh, you’re welcome to enter! Just, please put your sword away, and preferably take off your boots? I’d rather not have to clean up muddy footprints,” a smooth, slightly amused voice called from inside.

The anger Erik had been holding tightly in his palm flared, and he roared.

“Time to meet your demise, Evil One!” Erik shouted, all of the metal in the immediate vicinity rising with his call. Rakes, shovels and watering cans all slammed into the walls of the cottage, bursting through.

But then something heavy and extremely furry slammed on top of Erik’s head, knocking him out cold.

***

Erik was drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness for what seemed like a decade. His waking moments were punctuated by a cacophony of unfamiliar voices, Erik’s mind too clouded and aching to make out any of the words, and before he could find any clarity he fell back into unconsciousness over and over.

‘Ah, that awful helmet was the culprit.’

‘Want me to throw it into the lake?’

‘Ew, we don’t litter here, Sean. Besides, with Raven guarding the lake, she’d probably throw it back at you and knock you out.’

‘Should we tie him up?’

‘You tie him up! I don’t wanna touch him. Did you see how many teeth he had when he yelled?’

Erik moaned in pain as his body was rolled over the uneven floor, head knocking on something and sending him right back into dreamland.

‘We should kill him just to be safe.’

‘Don’t kill him here! You’ll get blood all over the floor and then I’ll have to mop it all up!’

‘We can just throw him in the lake and let Raven deal with him.’

‘But didn’t you see his powers? He has to be at least part faerie, and we don’t kill other faeries.’

‘No. We don’t kill people. Period.’

‘But he’s here to kill you, Charles!’

‘But he won’t. There’s good in him, I’ve felt it.’

Erik managed to gather enough consciousness to pull open his heavy eyes, the movement not going unnoticed and eliciting a scream from a lanky, curly-haired boy with freckled cheeks.

“Ahhh! He’s awake!” the boy yelled, just as a big, blue furry arm smashed against Erik’s head for the second time, sending him flopping onto the floor, passing out once again.

The next time Erik woke up, it was to frantic chatter. This time, Erik had enough of a mind to stay very, very still as to not alert his captors. Erik kept his eyes closed and his breathing steady while rolling his wrists, which seemed to be tied around a wooden pillar behind his back. Erik was slumped on the floor, head hanging down and stripped of his armour, leaving him only in his leathers and linen underclothes.

Erik also noticed that his helmet was gone, his heart picking up in alarm, almost making him twitch and expose his ruse. Luckily, it seemed that his captors had yet to realise that he was awake, Erik’s obscured fingers twitching as he reshaped a small metal spade into a sharp blade, the metal beginning to saw away at the ropes binding his wrists.

“Hank, didn’t I tell you not to hit him so hard? The poor man is concussed!” Smooth Voice (as Erik’s mind eloquently catalogued) said scoldingly, though the edges of the man’s words were not hard not cold, instead exceedingly warm.

“I didn’t mean to! He was throwing the gardening hoe through the window! What was I supposed to do?” a gruff voice – now labelled Gruff Voice – mumbled, chagrined.

“Well he had that stupid-looking bucket on his head anyway. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that, so if he died I think Hank did him a favour,” another voice – Rude Voice – chimed in with a snort, the sound of metal scraping against the floor loud in Erik’s ear.

Erik barely restrained the snarl about to leave his lips, his makeshift blade sawing away more furiously at his bindings, which were beginning to fray thin.

“Alex, don’t kick around the watering can and help Sean mop up all of the debris,” the Smooth Voice sighed, exasperation evident. Smooth Voice then sighed, the gentle noise followed by the creaking of a chair and a slight groan.

“Charles, are you alright? Your legs?” Gruff Voice hurriedly spoke.

“Yes, yes, Hank. Thank you. Just a lot of excitement today. It’s been a long time since we’ve had visitors.” Smooth Voice paused, before it chuckled. “Speaking of our visitor, it appears that he is awake, and has been for a short while.”

“What?” Gruff Voice said, suddenly alert.

“I’d advise against that, if I were you,” Smooth Voice said, and Erik startled when he realised that he heard the voice in his head. The Evil One. It had to be. Erik’s anger burst forth again as the rope binding his wrists snapped, the blade flying into Erik’s hand as he lunged up to attack.

Suddenly, as if someone had grabbed onto each and every one of his muscles, Erik’s entire body froze. The only thing he could move were his eyelids, which blinked rapidly in alarm. His arm was poised mid-stab, mouth half open in a war cry and eyes open wide.

Erik strained against the invisible force as a large, blue… beast wearing threadbare linen clothes and spectacles stomped over to him with a hard glare, pointed teeth exposed as his lips pulled back in a snarl. The beast towered over Erik, clawed hands extended… only to daintily pluck the metal blade from Erik’s hand and throw it into the pile of debris being swept into a corner by the lanky, freckled boy Erik had glimpsed at earlier.

Erik was able to move his eyes to stare at the man seated by a small dining table covered with dust and glass (from the window Erik had apparently smashed with a garden hoe), one hand poised at his temple and the other holding a small tea-cup. He leisurely took a sip from the steaming cup, letting out a happy hum at the taste.

The man had floppy chestnut hair that was swept back from a charming, rosy-cheeked face. His eyes were a startling shade of blue, too blue to be human, and his lips were full and red, like the man had been snacking on the berries Erik had noticed growing in the expansive gardens.

Even though he donned a frumpy knitted cloak and simple brown pants, the man seemed to glow more vibrantly than even King Shaw, who was always covered head to toe in Genoshan finery.

The man was ethereal, and for a moment, Erik was captivated.

Until he remembered why he was here, and who this obviously was. This man clearly ruled over the other monsters that held Erik captive, and with that coaxing voice in his head and the way he commanded Erik’s own body to do his bidding, there was only one person he could possibly be.

‘The Evil One,’ Erik’s mind whispered, the faerie suddenly choking on his mouthful of tea as his cheeks flushed red, the blue beast’s brow crinkly in worry as he rubbed the man’s back as he continued to cough.

“Ah, is that what people call me these days? That is quite unfortunate,” the man mumbled, grimacing a little, before turning to Erik, eyes growing sad. “Doing this to you probably isn’t aiding my image. I do apologise, I assure you I wouldn’t be in your head like this if you weren’t trying to kill me.”

Erik tried to squirm, call on his power, anything, but the hold on him was too strong.

“Now, I don’t usually peek into the minds of others without permission, but considering you are trying to kill me I had to take a few liberties. I hope you do understand. But, I am going to let you go now, so it would be lovely if you refrained from trying to stab me with what used to be my shovel,” the Evil One said slowly, the hand at his temple slowly lowering itself to rest against the side of his cup. The moment it did, Erik’s control over his body returned in a rush, his knees buckling as he heaved in a laborious breath.

“Mind magic, my King warned me about it,” Erik cursed, eyes hot as he stared at the Evil One, who remained seated while the blue beast stepped in front of him protectively. Erik extended his metal-sense, searching for his helmet, but was unable to feel it.

“Ah, your helmet? I’m afraid it’s…” the Evil One started, but was interrupted when a youthful, blond boy with a slight smirk sauntered forwards, leaning on his broom.

“At the bottom of the lake. Your sword too. Sorry,” he said sarcastically, the lanky boy behind him laughing.

“Fuck,” Erik couldn’t help but drop, the Evil One’s red lips quirking up into a small smile.

“Yes, I do apologise. I tried to stop them, but… Well, they are rather protective of me, you see,” the Evil One sighed again, casting fond eyes at the others in the room, before turning back to Erik. “Now, why don’t you take a seat and have some tea. You have been travelling for a number of days now, you must be tired. Dinner is served at sunset, it’ll be roast pheasant tonight, Moira’s specialty. Oh, and please do try not to kill me again. I was barely able to stop Hank from concussing you a third time.”

The blue beast huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, jerking his head over at the empty seat while the blonde boy began sweeping again as the lanky one draped a large cloth over the hole Erik had left in the wall.

Meanwhile, Erik just gaped at the Evil One, who was now smiling at him invitingly, arm sweeping over at the empty seat by the dining table.

“Who are you?” Erik blurted out, wondering if he was still unconscious, or already dead and in some sort of twisted afterlife.

“Oh, pardon my manners, I haven’t properly introduced myself yet, have I? You can call me the, uh, ‘Evil One’, but I’d much rather you just call me Charles,” the Evil One – Charles? – said, just as a pretty brunette woman walked in carrying a large tray of aromatic roast. “Ah, right on time! Please, Erik, isn’t it? Take a seat, you are in for a real treat!”

***

Erik sat deathly still at the crowded dining table, not touching the plate of food the Evil One had placed in front of him, even though his mouth was watering and his stomach gurgling with hunger.

“It’s not poisoned, Erik,” the Evil One laughed, pointedly tearing off a piece of bread and some pheasant from Erik’s plate, placing it in his mouth and swallowing. “See?”

When Erik still refused to eat, the Evil One sighed again, looking a little downcast like it was a crime against faerie folk to not eat roast pheasant when offered.

“Hmph, ignore him, Charles. He’s probably too busy trying to figure out a way to kill you,” the blond boy – Alex – said, rolling his eyes before stuffing his mouth full of bread roll.

Charles had introduced all of the other monsters as they arrived at the dinner table, each taking a seat while staring at Erik like he was the otherworldly creature here, as if they themselves weren’t beasts.

Alongside Alex, the lanky boy was apparently called Sean, and the blue monster called Hank. The woman that had brought out the food was Moira, while the young boy that sat beside the blonde shyly introduced himself as Scott. Apparently, there was someone else called Raven that usually resided in the lake, but she didn’t appear because she was pissed that someone had thrown Erik’s armour into her home.

“Try to be more understanding of Erik everyone,” Charles said, giving Erik another one of those gentle, coaxing smiles. “I do believe his understanding of us is quite askew.”

“Yeah, he called you the ‘Evil One’. Charles, the ‘Evil One’! Can you believe it?!” Sean wheezed, slapping his knee and making chewed pheasant fly all over the table, everyone groaning.

“How is he not evil?” Erik spat, slamming his fist on the table, the metal cutlery trembling. Everyone at the table tensed, ready to pounce on Erik if he so much as moved a fork anywhere near the Evil One. The only one that didn’t look ready to impale Erik was the Evil One himself, who just reached over the table to grab some golden butter to slather over his bread roll.

“Do enlighten us, Erik. What evil deeds are you accusing me of, exactly?” Charles asked, raising a brow while biting on his bread roll.

“Making us sweep up the Chosen One’s mess, I bet. That’s pretty evil of him,” Alex guffawed, Sean grinning while Hank’s blue lips twitched upwards.

Erik took offense at their joking, sickened by how they were making light of the death and destruction they leave in their wake. How little the deaths of the soldiers mean to them, how insignificant the deaths of Erik’s parents are, when to Erik it meant everything.

It was what has fuelled him all these years.

Without the anger, pain and rage that came with it, Erik would’ve long since perished.

“You killed all those soldiers in the forest,” Erik started, the Evil One leaning on his elbow, listening intently. “You tried to destroy Genosha centuries ago, only thwarted by King Klaus and banished to this forest. And… you murdered my parents.” Erik balled his fists at the way his throat still tightened at the mention of his parents, the pain still as raw as it was all those years ago.

“Oh, Erik, is that what they told you?” Charles sighed, putting down the bread roll and standing up slowly. Hank began to stand up to help him, but Charles waved his assistance away, walking over to the hole in the wall that used to hold a door, now just splinters of wood after Erik blasted it away.

“Come, Erik. It would probably be best for you to see, and for me to explain,” Charles said, before turning to his underlings. “You needn’t come along. Enjoy your dinner, and then continue cleaning. It would be best to try and plug up that hole, otherwise we will be in for quite a draughty evening.”

“Alright, call if you need anything, Charles,” Sean chirped, tapping on his temple before diving back into the pheasant on his plate, or what was left of it, anyway.

‘He’s probably luring me out to kill me. He seems to be reluctant to make a further mess of his den. A bloody death it’ll be for me then. Mama, Papa, I’m sorry – I don’t think I’ll be able to avenge your deaths,’ Erik said to himself, helplessness and anger swirling in his belly.

If the Evil One heard Erik’s thoughts, he didn’t comment on them, merely ushering Erik to follow him. Considering who had the upper hand, all Erik could do was obey him, though he hung back at a distance, wary.

Charles smiled understandingly, raising his hands slightly in a show of good faith, but Erik knew better than to trust the Evil One. Despite all his training, Erik was powerless; considering the physical stature of the Evil One, if it was a battle of physical power, Erik would triumph easily. However, the Evil One had the power of the mind, and with that, Erik was powerless. Even King Shaw’s specialised training could not help him here, not without a way to combat mind magic.

‘If only I had my helmet, then we’ll see who is in control,’ Erik thought to himself, Charles humming.

“Yes, with that helmet I wager that I’d be helpless against you. You have power that no one can match, not even me,” Charles admitted, sounding almost… impressed. Pleased. Charles chuckled again, eyes almost curving into crescents as he smiled, the motion reaching his eyes. “Well, yes. I am both impressed and pleased! Your magic is wonderful, Erik. A power like yours is rare, only seen once before, I believe.”

“I am not a cursed faerie. I am the Chosen One, destined to ki-” Erik started to rant as they trudged through the forest.

“Kill me, yes, you announced that very clearly when you blew a hole in my cottage,” Charles said. “That is but another lie that you have been fed, Erik. And now that you are here, I am hoping to help you see the truth.”

“And I am to just trust the Evil One? The harbinger of death?” Erik scoffed, staring at the back of the Evil One with blatant distrust.

“Harbinger of d- And you are to trust your King? The… conjurer of lies?” Charles asked back, Erik frowning.

“Of course. He saved my life, after you destroyed it,” Erik said, the Evil One sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I see I have decades of mistrust to sort through. A difficult task I have ahead of me, it seems,” the Evil One said, ducking under a low-lying branch before stopping. “No matter. We will just go through things, one lie at a time. Starting with this one.”

The Evil One stepped to the side and just gestured in front of him, not looking at it but at Erik instead, taking in his reaction.

Erik was reluctant to take his eyes of the Evil One – in case the man was about to kill Erik in the forest in return, and not because he was devastatingly beautiful, of course – but eventually forced himself to look at what the faerie was trying to show him.

And… what?

“There are some more in the holes there, but I assure you they are all wholly alive. Alex sometimes gets a little enthusiastic when intruders come knocking. Again, I do apologise,” the Evil One said as Erik gaped, something he seemed to be doing ever since he arrived at the Evil One’s den.

“I… What?” Erik asked very eloquently as he tried to process what he was seeing.

The soldiers that Erik had thought dead were all lying across the ground, snoring away peacefully, some even hugging each other as they obviously slumbered.

Finally registering the Evil One’s words as well, Erik rushed over to the trenches in the ground that had been opened up by the red beams that were apparently created by Alex. Peering over the sides, Erik was even more flabbergasted to see more soldiers fast asleep with their heads pillowed by dirt.

“As you can see, all of the soldiers are alive and well. Ah, well, some are a little bruised, but they’ll recover once they get back home,” the Evil One assured Erik.

“I… What… How?” Erik asked, turning to the Evil One questioningly, still wary.

“You accused me earlier of killing the soldiers that your King sent to kill me. As you can see, I did no such thing. They’re merely sleeping, and once dawn breaks tomorrow, they will march their way home to their families,” the Evil One said, tapping on his temple. “Again, I did take a few liberties, you’ll have to forgive me.”

“Why?” Erik asked, the Evil One laughing, tilting his head to the side slightly as he stared into Erik’s eyes.

“Because we don’t kill, Erik. Neither human nor faerie, and certainly not you,” the Evil One said softly, turning back in the direction of the cottage. “Now, let’s go back. We may be able to make it back in time for dessert. It’s apple pecan pie, if you were wondering.”

And that was how Erik found himself following along behind the most perplexing enigma of all time, one that could kill Erik at any given moment, but hadn’t.

‘Yet,’ Erik reminded himself, clenching his fist tightly.

Hasn’t killed you yet.

***

Erik begrudgingly ate a spoonful of the apple pecan pie, only after the Evil One had again plucked off a decorative nut and swallowed it to prove that it wasn’t poisoned.

It was a terribly delicious pie, and Erik couldn’t help but finish the entire thing, especially after depriving himself of dinner. Erik at least had the decency to decline the second helping the Evil One offered him, instead retreating back to his stoic, silent edginess as everyone else cleared the table and began cleaning up.

“If you still think I’m going to kill you, Erik, you are sorely mistaken. Ah, thank you, Sean,” the Evil One said as Sean placed a pair of teacups and large pot of tea on the table in front of him.

“Reading my mind, faerie?” Erik seethed, the Evil One shaking his head, brown hair fluttering over his ocean-blue eyes as he poured two cups of tea, pushing one across the table to Erik. The scent was herbal, but not bitterly so. A little sweet and a little floral, similar to the scent clinging to the skin of the Evil One.

Not that Erik was paying attention to the way the Evil One smelled. Not at all.

“No. It does not take mind magic to see that you are wary and guarded. Understandingly so. Every time I move, you tense up, ready to fight. You hardly touched the food, thinking it poisoned. But, Erik, I am not being ingenuous when I say that I mean you no harm. If I wanted to cause you harm, you would not have even made it past the threshold of the forest,” the Evil One said yet again, trying to assuage Erik’s distrust, but his words only made Erik tense up more.

The Evil One seemed to realise his mistake, chastising himself. “Ah, that last part sounded like a threat, didn’t it. I, uh, that was not my intention. Is it obvious I don’t entertain many guests? Apart from Moira, I have not seen any new faces for centuries. I… oh, I’m not making this any better, am I? Would you feel better if we retrieved your helmet? Oh, but then you would definitely try to kill me again if you had it. Maybe just your sword, then? I’ll get Alex to fish it out for you, since he was the one to dispose of it in the first place. Alex? Alex!”

Erik just stared at the Evil One, mind whirling as the man continued to chatter to himself. What he said was true – once Erik’s helmet was off, the Evil One could have finished him off any time. Even with the soldiers the Evil One, or even his underlings, could have slain them with ease, and yet they were alive, clear as day.

Erik’s mind was at war with itself, his present colliding with the beliefs ingrained deeply within him from his past.

‘The Evil One is nothing like the tales… Could he be speaking the truth? Could everything I’ve believed to this point be a lie? But this could all be a trick, just another twisted ploy the Evil One is using. Why, I can’t fathom. Either way, I’m at his mercy for now, until I can figure out a way to get my helmet back… Until then, I can at least hear him out, because if there is even the slightest chance he’s telling the truth…

Then what have I been working for all this time? If this faerie didn’t kill my parents…

What am I supposed to do?

***

Alex, dripping wet and soaked to the bone, all but threw Erik’s sword at him, the soldier catching it with his power much to the Evil One’s utter delight.

“How marvellous,” the Evil One exclaimed, clapping his hands together as he stared at Erik in awe, not noticing the way Alex crudely gestured at Erik behind the Evil One’s back. “Truly marvellous!”

“Yes, Charles, it’s truly marvellous giving a weapon to someone that wants to murder you,” Moira huffed, dumping a ratty hay-filled mattress onto the floor in front of the gaping hole Erik left in the wall, before throwing an equally ratty blanket and hole-ridden pillow atop it.

“Oh, hush, Moira,” the Evil One shushed fondly, the woman just frowning and squeezing his shoulder. The Evil One patted the back of her hand before picking it up and kissing her knuckles fondly. “Thank you for your concern, dear. Truly, I can take care of myself.”

“Even so, the others have decided to keep watch on rotation, in case he does decide to try anything,” Moira said, casting a questioning look at Erik, who bristled. “Good night, Charles.”

“Good night,” the Evil One replied, Moira giving Erik a wide berth as she walked past him to get to the door, but not before pointing at the makeshift bed she had just made.

“I think you can sleep on the floor, but Charles said you at least need a mattress. So there’s your bed. You made that hole in the wall, so you have to sleep in front of it,” Moira said before exiting, Erik once again floored by the actions of these monsters of the Dark Forest.

Once Moira left, the only ones remaining in the cosy cottage was Erik and the Evil One himself, though Erik’s trained ears could pick up the scuffling of a furry watchdog just outside of the cottage. The blue beast, most likely. Erik’s twice concussed head throbbed at the thought.

“I’m sure you have plenty of questions, Erik, and I will be more than happy to answer them. However, I’m sure you are exhausted, as am I, to be frank. It took a lot of energy to put so many people to sleep at once, it’s been a long time since I strained myself as such. So, why don’t we get a good night’s rest and pick this up first thing tomorrow over breakfast,” the Evil One said, getting up from where he sat with a yawn, rubbing at the corner of his eyes sleepily, looking far too at ease.

And adorable.

But the Evil One could not be adorable, because he was the harbinger of death and destruction, a cold-blooded killer that was wearing a lilac knit cloak.

The Evil One nodded at Erik with another easy-going smile, before retreating behind a door, closing it gently behind him. Candlelight flickered alight, seeping through the cracks in the door, the shadow of the Evil One moving beneath the frame.

Erik didn’t respond, merely walking over to the mattress and plopping down cross-legged on it, not putting himself in an even more vulnerable position by reclining. Erik clutched tightly at his sword, still glistening with water from the lake it had been fished from, carefully keeping an eye on the door that separated him from the one he was supposed to kill.

Erik did not sleep that night, eyes never leaving the door, even after the candle had long been snuffed out.

Next chapter → (2/?)

#cherik #X-men #x-men fanfiction #ao3 #fantasy #faeries #crack #Charles Xavier #Erik Lehnsherr #professor x #magneto

4 notes · View notes