Marie exhaled, trying desperately to pull herself together. She hasn’t been called for deliberations yet, and she won’t be. They have taken a day to rest, to try to wrap their minds around all they have learned.
Her mother won’t die today.
Neither will her brother’s father.
And not Kitty’s mate, come to think of it.
So why, she wondered, was it so hard to do this? She and all the other mates and seconds had taken this time to perform any extraneous tasks, and they won’t be needed soon, so she’d thought- well, she’d wanted to deliver a message to her father.
Her father who was probably angry at her for knowing and not telling him. But why would she have? He’d probably have protested her choice of mate- of mating- but he needed to know. Just as he needed to know Raven’s sons would protect her, he needed to know the price her own mind demanded she pay.
For mating was not all pretty words and beautiful moments.
Sometimes, it was painful.
Sometimes, it hurt.
Sometimes, mating ripped you apart.
Victoria ambled over, chuckling when her young protegee groaned. The cat Feral snickered and telepathed
‘You know, your mother will survive this.’
With a scowl, Marie batted back
‘It’s the other half of the parental equation I’m thinking about.’
Victoria chortled, before Marie realized something and asked out loud
“Hey, Vic, why’d you ask me to call you Ria, way back when?” Vic hummed and replied
“I wanted you to have a choice at a time when it seemed you had none, trivial a choice though it was.”
That… was really thoughtful, especially for a soldier-to-the-bone type like Victoria.
“Thank you.” The soft courtesy is easily caught by the excellent hearing of the feline Feral Prima, but beyond a nod, isn’t really acknowledged.
Marie slips away, knowing the Convocation of Ferals will resume tomorrow, and that the clock for tracking down her father and delivering her message is ticking.
Tick.
She wastes time chatting with a nervous Katya, who desperately needs the reassurance of a friend who has faced her mate to know that he is truly okay. Marie is glad to give her friend this much.
“We played together, for a few years, as children when my father worked in Russia for a while.” The other brunette informs Marie, and so she stays a little longer, listening intently.
Tick.
Jubilee needs reassuring next, that John, her John, is not beyond saving. This too, Marie can do, as the Prima of North America, it is her duty and her privilege to speak with the other mates. It takes time, but it puts off her errand.
Tock.
Aurelius, Pard and Madam Boucherie’s Second’s demand a little of her attention. Her ‘nephew’ Jackson, also tags along. He is the Second of Transylvania, and somewhere in the mix enters her big brother Graydon and it is surreal, to be this, to be doing this. But still.
Tick.
Boom.
It is time. Hesitant though she is, Anna Marie D’Ancanto Howlett, The Prima Scheherazade of North America, strides down the hall to meet her father and his acolytes. The first person she sees is Storm. With a smile and sad eyes, the younger convinces the elder to let her pass with little to know trouble.
It is awkward, at first. Several X-men are standing around, the Professor- her sire- is seated in their midst.
“Father.” Marie’s voice is firm, even. a trick learned from Vic and enhanced by Black Widow’s ‘bad-ass lessons’.
Xavier studies her for only a moment and replies
“Daughter.”
Shifting into the militant stance Vic had drilled into her, Rogue meets her fathers’ eyes and declares
“I am the Prima of North America. On behalf of the Prime and all Ferals on this continent, I would like to extend our appreciation for your services to our race. If it is at all possible, the Ferals would like to maintain a relationship of sorts with Xavier’s Institute.”
The other mutants are slack jawed, but Rogue isn’t done.
“Should you and yours prove amenable to such a relationship, we would prefer it come in the form of a Feral on the grounds. Mother would be a good contact, if you mated her, that is.”
Waiting a beat, two, Marie finishes neatly
“I know Graydon gave you a warning, and Kurt will too, but here is mine: my mother has been hurt enough, been forced and humiliated enough. Consider what would happen to her before you think about keeping her.”
Swivelling on her heel, the Prima strode out, relieved when she found Kurt on the other side of the door, silently teleporting her directly to her mate.
Who comforted her as he ought.
CHalstDoW
Raven, seated in an austere but comfortably furnished room, sighed for the first time since submitting to the Prime’s judgement. Though both she and the current Sabertooth had claimed the young ones as their own, there had not been much sharing.
Not that it mattered. Sabertooth was the only one without a mate or potential mate. At present, Piotr was the only one who’d been claimed. How she wished it made no difference who claimed who.
But her chameleon, wild heart insisted that her feelings didn’t matter if Charles didn’t return them. And why would he? The most poisonous part of her mind insisted. She wasn’t misguided St. John Allerdyce, wasn’t blackmailed Piotr, wasn’t even product-of-experiment Victor Creed.
No. She was Raven, who had made her choices rationally, who had turned her back on the man who loved her for no more reason that he’d never seen the way she needed and loved him. It had never been enough, either. No matter how free she’d been, part of her had yearned for Charles, for his warmth and love. All of which she’d thrown away in a petulant tantrum.
Sighing again, Raven concentrated on pulling forth her best memories, the ones with Charles and her children. If she was dying, she’d do it with a smile on her face.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Rogue learns something trivial from Victoria before confronting her father and we check in with Raven.