![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apachefirecat posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
xmen15Title: Queens
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: Strong PG-13/T to Soft R/M for mentioned nudity
Characters/Pairings: Emma Frost, OFC, Bumpkin, the Healer, mentioned Banshee/White Queen
Table/Prompt: X-Men 15 Table #3, Prompt 1. Birth
Word Count: 1,522
Summary: They are Queens, and he, their sentry.
Warnings/Spoilers: AU
Author's Notes: N/A
It has been a long night, one of the most trying of her life and yet also, she was already certain, most awarding. Her strength is only just returning as the sun crests up the shoreline. She moves to slip from her bed, but the only two people she had trusted to be with her this night are already beside her. A silent look passes from her eyes to those of her most trusted servant, and he moves instantly and humbly out of the way.
The Healer nods his acceptance, as well, but they stay on either side of her naked body as she moves toward her window. She is weak, and her steps falter at first, but she wants to see this sunrise. She wants to remember every moment of this new day, as she knows already she will remember every moment of the passing night for the rest of her life. She's uncertain of the exact moment when the great event happened, but she knows both Bumpkin and the Healer made note of it. The Healer will forget, as he must, but Bumpkin will remember.
She strokes the bald head of the infant she carries. She's healthy, and for that, Emma is grateful. She is grateful for this new life period for there seems to be ever fewer mutants in this world. Humankind is determined to destroy their people. Even when they live in peace and leave the humans alone, their hatred will never allow them to leave them alone. Emma knows her child will grow up in a world that hates and fears her, such as the luck of every mutant child, but she will never know the horrors Emma endured to reach this point in her life.
Emma's fingers trail down her newborn baby's chubby cheeks. She had kept her for a while unbathed before finally allowing the Healer to take and clean her. She remembers that fresh, crimson blood, the purest sign of life. She has been splattered and bathed in blood so many times throughout her hard journey in this world, but never has such a bath been so rewarding. Never has anything been so rewarding as holding this child in her arms now.
They will never harm you, she vows, lowering her head and kissing her daughter's. She will strive to protect her with every breath even more than she has their people. She will make whatever alliances are necessary to ensure her daughter's survival and happiness. She will keep her safe. She will cherish her as the treasure she is. She would die for this child, and if the Healer had not been present throughout the night, she likely would have.
The baby -- her baby gurgles joyously, her laughter the only sound in the otherwise silent room. She feels Bumpkin standing immediately behind her, ready to catch her should he need to, and senses the Healer not too far away. She should thank him, and she will, but he must not know. He must not remember. No one can know. It is time she takes her leave away from the X-Men and this supposed, tropical paradise again. It is time she hides away from the whole world for as soon as her daughter's life is known, she will have enemies.
Bumpkin has already sworn his allegiance to them both. He did so the very moment she slipped and allowed him to know she was with child, and he has not departed from her since. He was also the only one to know up until last night. She will make him Victoria's godfather, and leave her entire fortune to her daughter, to be provided to her as Bumpkin sees fit should she die prematurely. But the Healer... The Healer must not leave here with the knowledge of her daughter.
Emma turns suddenly and places a hand on the Healer's wrinkled forehead. His pupils widen in surprise, but then adjust with solemn acceptance. He understands, and she takes the memory from him and sends him, wordlessly, on his way. She almost collapses. Almost, but Bumpkin is there, his arms surprisingly strong. She has taught him a lot throughout their time together; hopefully, she can teach her daughter as much and raise her with Leech and Artie. Morlocks never seem to mature as swiftly as the rest of them.
A bird cries out a morning greeting on the other side of Emma's window. Her daughter gurgles and squirms in glee. Her daughter, Emma thinks again, pride and joy bursting through her. She strokes her beautiful face again, coming closer to the window. Bumpkin has not released her, nor does she demand him to do so. It is one of those rare times in her life when personal companionship is very welcomed. There's something warm and reassuring in the way her chauffer holds her, and her mind goes back to her baby's father.
He was one of many mutants to die in the last battle, and her instincts warn her that he will not be resurrected this time. Even if he is, he won't remember. He never remembers their nights together; he never did, even long before his first resurrection. When her daughter is discovered, the world will gasp in awe and wonder who the father is. They will never know. Emma's fingers grace her child's cheeks as she gazes into her eyes. She has her father's emerald eyes. The greens of Ireland shine and sparkle in her orbs, as they did in his.
She can fix that, though, Emma reassures herself. She can fix whatever it takes to ensure a good, long, healthy, and happy life for her child. Her child. This one will not leave her. This one is so much more than a meager student. This innocent life is her flesh and blood reborn, and not through any scientific or magical ways but the most natural thing known to man, or mutant, kind. She leans down and presses a chaste kiss to her baby's head. Victory is hers.
Emma lifts her head and looks out over the shores of Krakoa. This had once been destined to be a new place for mutantkind to reign. Her instincts warn her that is no longer so. But Victoria will live. They will both live, and one day, her daughter will reign as she has tried so many times to do with the mutants. Emma will teach her all she knows, and keep her safe from the world, and the hatred, fear, and violence within it, for as long as she possibly can. She will keep her safe.
And she will love her, and teach the mutant world to love her in due time. Fatigue washes through her, and she allows herself to lean back against Bumpkin. He is no Sean Cassidy, or Scott Summers, or even Tony Starke, but he is true, loyal, and dedicated and will be there for her Victoria when there comes a time she cannot be. Emma smiles the brightest expression she has in years, perhaps ever. Regathering her strength, she stands again and lifts Victoria so that her child can look out upon the world. No one will see her for she has them all masked, but she wants her daughter to see as much as she can of what she will one day reign over.
And they will reign, Emma vows, especially her, especially her little Victoria to whom she will pass this world one day, complete with all its tragedies. She wonders what she will tell her of her father -- she must prepare that story, but she has some years yet to work on it. For now, she simply holds her little one so she can see the vast, big, bright, and beautiful world. We are Queens, you and I, she thinks solemnly. You will rule one day, Victoria, and your reign will eclipse mine.
She's uncertain how long she stands there, but eventually, she does allow Bumpkin to lead them back to her bed. She takes his green hand in hers and lays it on her child's head. He nods in understanding. No words are needed. He will be there for young Miss Frost as he has always been there for her mother since the senior Miss Frost rescued him. He will be there for them both for as long as he has breath in his lungs, but for now, watching their lungs rise and fall in a more gentle rhythm, he stands silent watch, serving as the sentry he has been for Miss Frost in years.
This child, he thinks, will not abandon her. He sweeps his old, chauffer cap off of his bald, green head and holds it humbly against his chest. She will be there for her where the rest of the world has failed her, and it will be his honor to watch over both. He stands, as still as a statue, and watches them sleep and dream of a genuinely better tomorrow. If for no other reason, it will be better, he knows, for they will have each other.
The End
Author: Apache Firecat
Rating: Strong PG-13/T to Soft R/M for mentioned nudity
Characters/Pairings: Emma Frost, OFC, Bumpkin, the Healer, mentioned Banshee/White Queen
Table/Prompt: X-Men 15 Table #3, Prompt 1. Birth
Word Count: 1,522
Summary: They are Queens, and he, their sentry.
Warnings/Spoilers: AU
Author's Notes: N/A
It has been a long night, one of the most trying of her life and yet also, she was already certain, most awarding. Her strength is only just returning as the sun crests up the shoreline. She moves to slip from her bed, but the only two people she had trusted to be with her this night are already beside her. A silent look passes from her eyes to those of her most trusted servant, and he moves instantly and humbly out of the way.
The Healer nods his acceptance, as well, but they stay on either side of her naked body as she moves toward her window. She is weak, and her steps falter at first, but she wants to see this sunrise. She wants to remember every moment of this new day, as she knows already she will remember every moment of the passing night for the rest of her life. She's uncertain of the exact moment when the great event happened, but she knows both Bumpkin and the Healer made note of it. The Healer will forget, as he must, but Bumpkin will remember.
She strokes the bald head of the infant she carries. She's healthy, and for that, Emma is grateful. She is grateful for this new life period for there seems to be ever fewer mutants in this world. Humankind is determined to destroy their people. Even when they live in peace and leave the humans alone, their hatred will never allow them to leave them alone. Emma knows her child will grow up in a world that hates and fears her, such as the luck of every mutant child, but she will never know the horrors Emma endured to reach this point in her life.
Emma's fingers trail down her newborn baby's chubby cheeks. She had kept her for a while unbathed before finally allowing the Healer to take and clean her. She remembers that fresh, crimson blood, the purest sign of life. She has been splattered and bathed in blood so many times throughout her hard journey in this world, but never has such a bath been so rewarding. Never has anything been so rewarding as holding this child in her arms now.
They will never harm you, she vows, lowering her head and kissing her daughter's. She will strive to protect her with every breath even more than she has their people. She will make whatever alliances are necessary to ensure her daughter's survival and happiness. She will keep her safe. She will cherish her as the treasure she is. She would die for this child, and if the Healer had not been present throughout the night, she likely would have.
The baby -- her baby gurgles joyously, her laughter the only sound in the otherwise silent room. She feels Bumpkin standing immediately behind her, ready to catch her should he need to, and senses the Healer not too far away. She should thank him, and she will, but he must not know. He must not remember. No one can know. It is time she takes her leave away from the X-Men and this supposed, tropical paradise again. It is time she hides away from the whole world for as soon as her daughter's life is known, she will have enemies.
Bumpkin has already sworn his allegiance to them both. He did so the very moment she slipped and allowed him to know she was with child, and he has not departed from her since. He was also the only one to know up until last night. She will make him Victoria's godfather, and leave her entire fortune to her daughter, to be provided to her as Bumpkin sees fit should she die prematurely. But the Healer... The Healer must not leave here with the knowledge of her daughter.
Emma turns suddenly and places a hand on the Healer's wrinkled forehead. His pupils widen in surprise, but then adjust with solemn acceptance. He understands, and she takes the memory from him and sends him, wordlessly, on his way. She almost collapses. Almost, but Bumpkin is there, his arms surprisingly strong. She has taught him a lot throughout their time together; hopefully, she can teach her daughter as much and raise her with Leech and Artie. Morlocks never seem to mature as swiftly as the rest of them.
A bird cries out a morning greeting on the other side of Emma's window. Her daughter gurgles and squirms in glee. Her daughter, Emma thinks again, pride and joy bursting through her. She strokes her beautiful face again, coming closer to the window. Bumpkin has not released her, nor does she demand him to do so. It is one of those rare times in her life when personal companionship is very welcomed. There's something warm and reassuring in the way her chauffer holds her, and her mind goes back to her baby's father.
He was one of many mutants to die in the last battle, and her instincts warn her that he will not be resurrected this time. Even if he is, he won't remember. He never remembers their nights together; he never did, even long before his first resurrection. When her daughter is discovered, the world will gasp in awe and wonder who the father is. They will never know. Emma's fingers grace her child's cheeks as she gazes into her eyes. She has her father's emerald eyes. The greens of Ireland shine and sparkle in her orbs, as they did in his.
She can fix that, though, Emma reassures herself. She can fix whatever it takes to ensure a good, long, healthy, and happy life for her child. Her child. This one will not leave her. This one is so much more than a meager student. This innocent life is her flesh and blood reborn, and not through any scientific or magical ways but the most natural thing known to man, or mutant, kind. She leans down and presses a chaste kiss to her baby's head. Victory is hers.
Emma lifts her head and looks out over the shores of Krakoa. This had once been destined to be a new place for mutantkind to reign. Her instincts warn her that is no longer so. But Victoria will live. They will both live, and one day, her daughter will reign as she has tried so many times to do with the mutants. Emma will teach her all she knows, and keep her safe from the world, and the hatred, fear, and violence within it, for as long as she possibly can. She will keep her safe.
And she will love her, and teach the mutant world to love her in due time. Fatigue washes through her, and she allows herself to lean back against Bumpkin. He is no Sean Cassidy, or Scott Summers, or even Tony Starke, but he is true, loyal, and dedicated and will be there for her Victoria when there comes a time she cannot be. Emma smiles the brightest expression she has in years, perhaps ever. Regathering her strength, she stands again and lifts Victoria so that her child can look out upon the world. No one will see her for she has them all masked, but she wants her daughter to see as much as she can of what she will one day reign over.
And they will reign, Emma vows, especially her, especially her little Victoria to whom she will pass this world one day, complete with all its tragedies. She wonders what she will tell her of her father -- she must prepare that story, but she has some years yet to work on it. For now, she simply holds her little one so she can see the vast, big, bright, and beautiful world. We are Queens, you and I, she thinks solemnly. You will rule one day, Victoria, and your reign will eclipse mine.
She's uncertain how long she stands there, but eventually, she does allow Bumpkin to lead them back to her bed. She takes his green hand in hers and lays it on her child's head. He nods in understanding. No words are needed. He will be there for young Miss Frost as he has always been there for her mother since the senior Miss Frost rescued him. He will be there for them both for as long as he has breath in his lungs, but for now, watching their lungs rise and fall in a more gentle rhythm, he stands silent watch, serving as the sentry he has been for Miss Frost in years.
This child, he thinks, will not abandon her. He sweeps his old, chauffer cap off of his bald, green head and holds it humbly against his chest. She will be there for her where the rest of the world has failed her, and it will be his honor to watch over both. He stands, as still as a statue, and watches them sleep and dream of a genuinely better tomorrow. If for no other reason, it will be better, he knows, for they will have each other.
The End
