Victoria, Jack mused, was undoubtedly snoring while he did his duty as the Prime of Transylvania. Similar thoughts were running through his brother in law's mind, he could tell. Because yeah, they already knew what was going down, but they were stressing out the prisoners for a reason.
They could be with their mates. Or he could be working out with his son. But no, they were deliberating the fates of four other beings. Four Ferals.
Logan began orating, but Jack could already tell what he’d say. Kurt could too.
CHALSTDOW
Aurora, next in line to the Aurelius of California, looked at the people in front of her. So these were young Rogue’s original Frenzy*. Not very impressive, though the Laser-Eyed One was kinda cute. But with the skinny red haired bitch.
The skinny red haired bitch who was moving to sit beside Aurora. With a sniff, the Feral kept her mouth shut. Family legend might have them descended from Marcus Aurelius, the last of the good Emperors, but this one wouldn’t chair. Wrinkling her nose, Aurora waited. While she could and normally would restrain her sharkish traits, she did not have the patience to deal with this bitch. This bitch who was stifling Cyclops. WHo had questioned the Prima.
“Thank you. For restraining me.” The words were sincere, but Aurora (and her inner shark) could smell the acrid taste of displeasure. It cloyed on the tongue, and apparently the fastest way to get rid of the stinky meatbag of lies was to play nice.
Throwing out her most sharkish crazy grin, Aurora purred
“Not a problem, sweetness. Any time you want that hunk off your hands, though, just let me know!” When Prima looked askance as bitchface huffed off, Aurora batted her lashes and used the ‘poor sharky’ eyes that got her brother to cave in every time. Prima shook her head and herded everyone toward the courtyard where the cat, chameleon, baby dragon and metal bear were to be sentenced.
Prima met the Primes and other Prima in the courtyard.
Clearing her throat, Prima took the slip of paper from Prime as the Madam Boucherie, Aurelius, Pard and their seconds spread out, ready to leap and do the Prime’s bidding.
Rogue took in the anxious faces around her. Her fathers’ hope and her mothers’ defeat. Kitty had moved even before Piotr had finished kneeling. Jubilee swallowed and copied Kitty’s lunge for her mate. Rogue eyed the camera and unfolded the slip of paper in her hand.
“By order of my mate, the Prime of North America, James Logan Howlett, you four will be given leave to live if you agree to the following:
First, Sabertooth, also known as Victor Creed, who shalt not kill, and be rehabilitated by his son, Graydon Creed. His compliance will be assured once he has sworn an oath to Prime Darkholme.
Second, Mystique, also known as Raven Darkholme, has been sentenced to retraining under Victoria Creed Russell before taking up a post at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. As with Sabertooth, she must swear an oath to her Prime.
Third, Colossus and Pyro, alternatively Piotr Nikolaevich Rasputin and St. John Allerdyce, have been sentenced to training under Prime Howlett, followed by a term serving as the Prima Howlett’s guards. Should they refuse to comply, all knowledge of them will be forcibly wiped from the minds of their mates.”
For a moment, all is silent.
For a moment, all is on the precipice.
For a moment, all is still.
And then they move. Kitty kisses Piotr fiercely, uncaring that Jean is attempting to scold her. Mystique frowns at Aurora, but moves forward to thank her daughter and the rest of the judgement council. Sabertooth walks to his son, gripping him in a fierce hug.
Charles takes a moment. To revel in this victory. Raven is coming home, Erik can rest in peace, and neither of the young men who were forced or led astray is going to die. Redemption, he muses, is a beautiful thing.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
We come ever closer to the end, but we aren't there yet.