Victor Creed froze as he studied the file in his hands. It was only the beginning of his problems…

Rogue was day dreaming in class again, not that anyone was really surprised. Logan had left only a few weeks ago, of course.

Even through her daze, Rogue could tell something was wrong. There was a shift in the air. Her dreams were no longer of labs and champagne and agony, but of darkness and blood followed by light. Confusing, to be sure. With a sigh, she returned to Storm’s lecture, stiffening when she heard a noise in the hall.

Storm didn’t hear it (but then, Logan had insisted on the barest of drains regularly to keep her senses sharp) so when Logan burst through the door with Scott on his heels, she jumped while Rogue focused on Logan.

“We got a problem, kid.” The snarl was intimidating, but Rogue was already packing. Scott shot back angrily

“That doesn’t mean-” Rogue rolled her eyes and met Logan’s gaze

“When are we going? How long will we be gone?” He relaxed a little, crossing his arms and grunting

“Few weeks at least.” When Storm and Scott tried to protest, he whirled to snarl at them

“When Victor fucking Creed interrupts a fight to get down on his knees and beg for your help, then you can tell me what to do! I’m not risking the kid because I didn’t keep an eye on her.” Rogue slapped his ass for that, walking out the door as she retorted

“Between you, Magneto and the Ween Squad, I’ve got almost three hundred years of life lived under my belt, Logan.”

Chuckling, he stalked out after her, chortling when he looked back to see Storm and the girls staring after her in awe while Scott looked distinctly uncomfortable.

CHLSTDoW

Within the hour, Charles had gathered Logan, Rogue and his staff in his office. They were waiting for Logan to speak, but that was proving hard to get started since he was leaning against the wall talking to Rogue in soft, near subvocal whispers.

When Charles cleared his throat for the third time, Logan straightened and pulled a file from the pack against the wall. Opening it, he spoke slowly, giving them the information with uncharacteristic caution.

“According to what I found when I went to another telepath I found, one who knew me before, I’ve been alive since 1835. That same telepath unlocked my memories and helped me regain equilibrium in time to reunite with an old squadron of mine. That squadron corroborated what Sabertooth told me when I pressed him about his plea.” Trading wary glances with Rogue, he continued

“The Sabertooth we’ve seen, I was at one point convinced he was my brother, because it was better than believing he was a carbon copy clone of my father. Fact is, he IS a clone, and my ‘father’ hasn’t been seen since I went into the Weapon X program. Some believe he’s dead, but my contact just believes he’s on another continent and either confined or contented to stay there. The clone, Victor, has been working with Sabertooth for a long time. He found out recently about the cloning, which should have been impossible when it was done, but medical mutants existed even before the turn of the century.”

Logan paused, standing in the middle of the room while they all stared at him. Until Rogue came forward, sliding beneath his open jacket to wrap her arms around his waist. Closing his eyes, Logan dropped the file and held Rogue as close as he could, bracing a hand on the back of her head.

Heaving a sigh, he finished
“Victor says there’s more than a few mutants in trouble with Magneto, because he’s gone mad. He started murdering the recruits who’ve displeased him. He came to me because according to Feral Law, as the eldest sane Feral on the continent, some might say the planet, I can call a tribunal of Ferals and bring down judgement on Victor, the other Ferals willing to face judgement and anyone else they may claim as theirs. He’s got at least two cubs that he says were either led or forced astray, one is that Allerdyce shit, but Victor says he’ll stand for them.”
His vice is grim, and the adults jump when Rogue stares up at him in horror and asks in a whisper

“Victor will stand in front of the entire Nation, for John? But, that means-” Logan nods, finishing her sentence uneasily

“Victor will die if the tribunal sentences him to it, and Allerdyce will be beaten, but should survive, unless he protests his status. Then he dies alongside Victor.”

Xavier listened to this, nodding himself when Scott protested the barbaric rules. He froze when Rogue snarled

“I just absorbed Logan’s memories, Scooter. Again. The Ferals govern themselves because they are ruled by the animal heart and the human mind as one. It is so easy for them to go mad, to lose themselves to grief and pain, because they live so much longer! They are in one moment more savagely human than you are in one lifetime. Each of them, including Mystique!”
Charles froze. Tentatively, he asks

“How is Mystique a Feral?” Shaking her head, Rogue glances at Logan, who heaves a sigh and says wearily
“Ferals are more common than you think, Chuck. Mystique is a chameleon Feral, Victor is a literal sabretooth feral, my sister-niece is also a tiger, the Cameron family from California has ruled the area as the resident shark Ferals since 1908, the Beaucherie family from Louisiana are alligators. The Darkholme from Germany is rumoured to be a bat Feral. There’s more, but all you need to know is we’re televising the whole tribunal. The X-men and the students of Xaviers’ are invited to attend, but deliberations are closed and any death penalty is administered the next dawn. If you remain in the area, only the very youngest escape watching the execution.”

Suddenly, Logan just looks so tired, so worn down, that when Rogue pulls him away with a murmured

“Come. You need to rest.” No one protests. She calls over her shoulder

“The tribunal will stand at Howlett House, in Alberta Canada in three weeks. I’ll give a lecture on Feral law before we leave.”

Then she’s gone, hauling Logan like he’s her lifeline. Xavier is left to wonder at their relationship, at this ‘Darkholme’ and if, just maybe there is something he can do for Raven, if Feral law is so different from human.

Rogue does not want to leave her place beside Logan, but she must. She has a lecture to give, group leaders to call, food to prepare. Because she doubts Logan will want to drive to the house and sit through the tribunal sweaty.

She works on the list she’s entering into her battered notebook, eating absently, until it is time to get to the lecture hall. She stands in front of the X-men, having ordered Logan to remain in his bed, twisting his tag with her fingers. Pulling in a deep breath, she takes a sip of water before looking at the turn out. Once they’d heard that John was maybe on trial, many of the senior students turned out to listen.

Catching the eye of Kitty Pryde, aware that the other girl need specific information desperately, Rogue began

“Feral society is different from any other. Although they individually have characteristics of their animal, the behaviour exhibited most closely mirrors that of primates. Common themes in the hierarchy, universal to nearly every Feral, are mating and children. There are certain rules in play there, but I’ll get to that in a minute. You all are very lucky to have studied under or lived with the Prime Feral, because as the eldest sane Feral on the continent, possibly the planet, Logan’s name alone can offer you protection from most other sane Ferals. I say sane because they walk the line between human and animal every moment of their lives. Waking or sleeping, they are Feral. However, they will also accept even normal humans into the hierarchy, so long as another Feral claims them. The tribunal will deal with the powerful players last, asking if the less powerful or younger Ferals have mates to answer the Challenge. In this, a Feral may choose to take the punishment for their mate or offspring, or the mate or child of the accused may fight in a Challenge against equal opponents. As the mate of the Prime-” Rogue waited for the outburst to die down, sipping more water before talking over the crowd

“I cannot stand with the accused in a challenge, as I must assist the Prime with judgement. However, if St. John Allerdyce resists Sabertooth’s claim as his pride alpha, only Allerdyce’s mate may stand with him in the challenge. If he has a mate to stand with him, willing to do so, it is unlikely Allerdyce will face a Challenge.” Locking eyes with Kitty, she nodded, before focusing on Victor and Mystique

“Victor Creed alone will face a full Judgement. Were Mystique mated, she would face the same circumstances as Allerdyce. As it stands, that is how it should play out, so I will educate you on the Feral families before returning to my mate.”

Cracking her knuckles, Rogue stalled for a minute before beginning again

“Of the Ferals of North America, the Prime is Logan, always referred to as simply ‘Prime’ when acting in that capacity. The Russof family of Translyvania is the Prime family over there, and in 1920, Victoria Grace Creed, daughter of Victor Creed, mated Jacob Russof, joining the families. Their son Jackson is the heir to Primacy of both North America and Transylvania until Logan has a child of his own. The Beaucherie family is alligator Ferals, headed by the Madame Beaucherie, Sylvia, usually referred to as Gnash. The Cameron family of California are shark ferals whose head is always either Aurelius or Aurelia. The Reyes clan of Mexico are leopard ferals whose alpha is Pard. The only other Feral with the standing to attend the tribunal is Nightcrawler, Prime of Germany.” With a sigh, she slunk away, hoping things wouldn’t get too bloody.

However, she knew she had a confrontation to get out of the way. So she ensured she came face to face with Hank McCoy sooner rather than later, staring him down as boldly as she could. Before he could talk, she snapped

“Yes, you’re a Feral, but until you stop denying your mate her wish because you see yourself as a human in an animal’s body, you hold no standing. She’d love you for the rest of your life, if only you’d look with your heart instead of your mind!”

Her piece said, Rogue stomped off, barely reining in her temper. Her mate needed her, but he also had duties that were hers to carry out in his exhaustion. Even after grabbing food from the kitchen, it wasn’t too late, though. He was still sleeping like a baby.

Putting the food on Logans’ desk, Marie stripped off her clothes, easing in beside him to lay herself on his chest, relaxing when he rolled them so she lay beneath him, aware he needed this, needed her. They had a long ride ahead of them, but if they could turn it to their advantage, they could seal Logans’ Primacy while strengthening their bond.

Though she wasn’t sure when she drifted off, Marie woke up when she felt Logan stroking her side. He was studying her lazily, dipping his head to murmur to her

“I love you kid. I can’t imagine leaving you behind.” Marie tensed, relaxing when he telepathed information to her that was both interesting and obvious. With a sigh, she nodded and promised him “I’ll do what I can, but even a Prima can only do so much, my Prime.”

He sighed then, pressing her closer, whispering
“Thank you.” Before beginning his mately duties. The pleasurable ones.

CHLSTDoW

It had only been a few days since Logan had returned for her, but Rogue was very happy. After the pleasure of fucking her mate, they had made arrangements to travel and prepare the house for the tribunal.
She did have to figure out how to handle her first real task as Prima, and was quite satisfied when the opportunity to begin was presented to her. In the form of Mystique approaching her while she watched Logan fight in a mutant bar.

The blue skinned woman sat across from her, studying her intensely. Marie met her gaze, startled when she saw the emotion in the older woman’s eyes. Swallowing the urge to snarl at the blue mutant, Marie nodded and spoke softly

“You’re Charles’ Raven.” Shock lit her eyes, but the Prima wasn’t chosen based on her looks, a Prima became Prima because she was strong. Rogue pressed on
“He’s your mate, isn’t he?” Mystique nodded, speaking with hesitant softness
“We fought, long ago. We tried to reconcile nearly twenty years ago, but I didn’t want the same things he did. I left, and-” The pieces begin to click together, and Mystique flinched when Marie asked

“Xavier is my father, isn’t he?” Calmly, Marie explained

“Logan found out that Nightcrawler is yours, and that you had another child a few years after him. Victoria trained me to control my mutation, and in doing so found I had more natural telepathic abilities than most. It was strong enough to consider that I was related to Xavier.”

Expression tight with pain, Mystique nodded, and elaborated

“I’ve never kept more than cursory tabs on my children. Nightcrawler- your brother Kurt- was a necessity to get his fathers help. Azazel told me I shouldn’t remain in touch with him because I’d poison him. My baby. But I thought he was right. You see, my eldest, Grayden, was born after Sabertooth and I encountered an aphrodisiac plant. He was a human who ended up hating humans, and he died young.” Tears, though probably faked, were glimmering in old, golden cat eyes. She swallowed and said

“I wanted to keep you, but after my sons, after I fought with Charles, I couldn’t be anything like a good parent. Believe what you like, baby girl, but I just wanted a world where you and your brothers could have walked in the sunlight, together, as siblings should.

As I did once, with Charles, but if I could have made a world where I could have raised Graydon and Kurt and you together, without hiding any part of yourselves, I’d have died happily. Even without Charles.”

Pinching her nose, Rogue thought for a minute. Her mother had been required to make awful choices, and from what she could glean telepathically, she’d been absolutely truthful. Her mother had wanted her, had wanted to raise her with her brothers. Brothers. She only had one now, but still…

“Does Kurt know about me?” Mystique nodded and replied

“When he realized I was his mother, about ten years ago, he started tracking me randomly for conversations. At first we were just getting to know each other, and then I told him about Graydon, about you. He worked to become the Prime so that you and I would have someplace to run, but he decided to keep an eye on you remotely so as not to interrupt your education after we found out that you’d mated the Wolverine.”

Rogue whimpered at that. Her family, her real family, they cared. Cared enough to offer safety, to leave her to her own choices. She shuddered gratefully when Logan scooped her up.

“What about Liberty?”

Shame coloured Mystique’s expression.
“I won’t forgive myself for that, so don’t think I’ll ask for it. Kurt never asked his sources for a photograph because we wanted to protect your identity, my child. I didn’t know it was you until Kurt cornered me a week later and berated me. I honestly did not know that the child, the person I’d so desperately wanted to keep safe was the one my master killed.”

She forced herself to meet Logans’ gaze.
“I know you can never forgive my errors, and that you’ll never care what I think, but I thank fate every day that at least one of my children mated someone strong enough to love them and live with them. I’ll sit in front of the tribunal, but I want you to promise me that no matter the death the tribunal chooses for me, I do not have to watch children suffer. Please, Logan, make the others understand why Kurt and Marie must recuse themselves.”

Marie stiffened.

“Why-” Mystique interrupted urgently

“I’ve earned the price for my penance, but that doesn’t mean I want you to suffer for it.”
With a nod, Logan slipped himself and his mate away, knowing he needed to make sure that his mates’ mother survived so they could come to a truce, and that he was in for a night of tears.

Kurt Darkholme returned to the church he operated in Berlin. It was a massive, old world cathedral, but only a portion of it was available to the public. The chapel where he and a sympathetic human preached, and the small, quite profitable café in the foyer, as well as the sprawling garden made for a beautiful haven.

But even havens hold secrets.

Here, at the cathedral where the Prime Feral of Germany sat on his throne of power, there were many secrets. Like the fact that the rectory housed nearly two dozen mutants, humans and Ferals. It wasn’t Xaviers, with every kind of education and security available, but they had good food, comfortable beds, competent medics and enough space to run around.

The man in Kurts’ study, minding the phone while filling out paperwork, was one of those secrets.

Graydon Creed was grumpily compiling the needed medical supply inventory when his younger brother came in. His first clue that something was wrong was that Kurt didn’t shut down his image inducer.

Instead, he grabbed a laptop and began firing off emails, barely looking up to say

“The North American Prime has called a tribunal. Transylvania’s already there, so they called me as their third.”

Tribunals weren’t unusual, the should-have-been-dead man knew. Kurt had been called to other tribunals before. This time, his younger brother announced

“Sabertooth- the clone- and two kids were originally scheduled for hearings. Logan came across Mother, and she said she’d do the same. Marie has finally consummated her mating, by the way.”

Graydon froze. Granted, he’d worked things out with Mystique after faking his death and accepting Kurts’ long ago offer of sanctuary, sitting his own tribunal in Europe only to have his mother meltdown all over his baby brother at his death. He was still MIA, but one of Kurts’ international contacts had cleared his official files after witnessing the tribunal, fibbing about his reasons to fake his death.

This was his only chance, with his track record, to meet his sister. His only baby sister. Heaving a breath, he asks

“When are we leaving?”

Kurt hesitates. Although it is fair it’s also frustrating to be doubted after all this time. The hesitation is also for a different reason

“Mother wants us to recuse ourselves.”
It hits Graydon like a punch. His parents are on trial, and his mother wants him to recuse himself?

Shaking his head, Graydon resolves
“Mother is a little twisted, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that as long as she’s known about us, she’s done everything for us, up to and including forswearing her mate. Like hell we’ll recuse ourselves, besides, you and Mother know Marie’s mate, but I don’t.”

Kurts agrees, and they trot off to the airport, touching down in Calgary within the next day and a half.

CHLSTDoW

Graydon’s first impression of Howlett House is that it is big and sturdy. From here, he can see stone walls, cut glass windows and a modern roofing style. The turrets are topped by metal things, something like a weather vane, though they remain silhouetted against the sky. One is the shape of a sabretooth tiger roaring, another a howling wolf. Over the door is the Howlett coat of arms, seen only after you maneuver the
long driveway with curlicue gates, an archway proclaiming ‘Howlett’ over top.

Kurt is staring while Graydon drives, the elegant fountain around which the driveway curls drawing both their attention. It is a woman, dancing in the finest of mists, her face looks like that of mate of Jack Russell. Once they’ve handed off the car to Jackson, who greets them from the door when they halt, he directs them to the study, where, much like Darkholme Cathedral, the estates’ affairs are conducted.

The house itself is obviously neatly renovated, the
floors a honey coloured wood that gleam with fresh wax, the sconces on the wall made to cleverly conceal lightbulbs, paintings and sculptures are scattered around the halls, the odd enlarged photograph hung on the wall in neat frames.

Graydon likes this house, knows instinctively that it might be Logan’s but that his sister had a hand in the decoration. It is an old house, modernized without ruining the glorious age of it. He could drink it in like a fine wine, the way this house feels so much like the Cathedral that he already feels at home, against his every wish.

They reach the study, which actually turns out to have a meeting table in the front room, and a study off it. It is a nice setup, an oak table to seat eight in the center of the room, chairs at the wall an unobtrusive archway to the actual study behind Logan’s chair. Logan is seated at the head of the table, and to his right is the Prima of Transylvania, to her right is the Prime of Transylvania, to his right is a man who is probably Aurelius, behind him sits a female that looks to be a bit older than Marie.

At the foot of the table is a woman with an alligator skin bag in her lap, seated at her back is a woman who is obviously her daughter. Gnash, then, the Madam Beaucherie, head of the alligator clan, and her daughter Antonia. A Mexican man, obviously Pard, the Reyes patriarch, sat to Gnash’s right, the Valkyrie behind him was probably his mate. An empty seat between Pard and Marie was probably for Kurt, a chair behind him likely for Graydon.

The men sit, Kurt apologizing for the delay. Logan waves it away, and Marie starts

“Before we start, Mystique made it clear she didn’t want her children to suffer. Also, the elder of the two cubs Sabertooth claimed, his name is Colossus, was forced into this because Magneto wanted his power. His family is being held hostage, including his four year old sister. His likely mate has confirmed what she can about his story, but neither is actually Feral, and he has yet to acknowledge the bond.”

Graydon frowns at that. He’s been around Ferals long enough to know that they hold mating as the most sacred bond. If someone denies it, there must be a reason. Simple malicious intent is the last thing considered.
Logan continues seriously

“Pyro, the younger one, has a mate-hopeful, but he’s a stupid kid that’s been led astray. Colossus, given back his family and the time to court his mate properly, will likely not enter such conflicts without cause. Mystique has refused to make attempts at reconciliation with her own mate to protect her cubs. If her mate knew all of this, undoubtedly he would welcome her home.”
Home. For a Feral, Graydon knows, home is not a place, no matter how pretty Darkholme and Howlett are, but people. Home is your mate and cubs, your hierarchy system, be it pack, pride, sneak or warren. Much as Graydon would like to have that kind of home, he’s accepted the closest he’ll get is being the Darkholme Horde’s Second. His sister may yet be an honorary Hordemate, but she’s already mated and leading a Sneak of her own.

He tunes back in to the conversation in time to realize that the Primes and Clan leaders have decided that Sabertooth and Mystique fear death, and that they shall let them stew in it. The younger ones too, are afraid, but they will take this chance to reach them. Marie has promised to contact the mate-hopefuls while Kurt has volunteered to sound out the young males’ intentions more thoroughly. Logan dismisses the Clan heads and their mates or seconds, and now turns to Kurt, speaking gruffly

“The Russof’s are family, so speak now, Germany.”
With a sigh, Kurt beckons his brother, who has remained cloaked in shadow up to this point. Slinking, Graydon seats himself at the foot of the table, nodding when Marie gasps

“You’re Graydon, my brother.”
He nods, forcing himself to speak.

“I am. I’m also the son of the cloned Sabertooth, once the founder of the FOH, and technically nobody.” Seeing the spark of curiosity from his sister, he explains

“I faked my death when I realized how badly I screwed up. I went to Kurt, asked him how to become the better man I wanted to be, and in the process, reunited with my mother.” He fell silent, nodding when Kurt added

“He sat tribunal in Germany. I had Russia, Lithuania and Italy come in so there was no question. Affidavits
were filed in Alexandria.”

Alexandria. The name makes them all relax, though Graydon knows once he leaves, both Logan and Russof will make a call to the underground organization. Since it is the repository of Feral knowledge, with a global network of caches, all on paper so none of it winds up on the internet, they must remain unbiased and a phone call away from all Ferals. So no one will fool with the documents.

The Prima of Transylvania speaks then.

“Then you are also my brother and Logan’s nephew. I was born to a woman of Arabian descent in 1900, when our father was about 18. Logan was born to the original Sabertooth in 1835, on the grounds of Howlett House, actually.”

It is uncomfortable, he thinks. This feeling. He feels full of emotion when his entire family except his parents look at him. Kurt is affectionate, Logan, Jacob and Jackson are cautious, but Marie and Victoria are lit with incandescent hope.

It hits him then. No matter the outcome of this tribunal, he has his mothers’ love, he has a brothers and sisters aplenty, an uncle and a nephew. Though, if things work as Marie hopes, he may yet have a stepfather and a school more relations. The prospect actually excites him. Home, a home of his own, he has it and more is in his grasp, and all because his sister mated a man of honour.

Pulling into the drive of Howlett House was a punch in the gut for Xavier and his people. Every elegance was a tug on an already hard knot. They were gaping wide eyed at the front door when Wolfman ambled out, muttering about wolf and door jokes. He came forward with bold strides, nearly unrecognizable in his combat boots, fatigue pants, muscle shirt and crew cut, to bark

“Oi, the tribunal’s convening in the courtyard around back!” He stalked away, all impossible liquid grace, not caring if they followed him. Kitty darted behind him, not speaking, throwing a caustic glare at the others to get them moving.

Shaken out of their stupor by sweet, innocent Kitty glaring at them, the X-ers came to the courtyard not far behind the unlikely pair, but far enough they didn’t hear Kitty whimper when she saw Colossus, didn’t hear her whisper in Russian.

However, when Logan heard it, he glanced at Colossus, who was kneeling alongside Mystique, and distinctly heard the young Russian murmur with some distress

“Lyubimaya…”

Pyro was looking sullen, until Jubilee rounded the corner, causing him to sigh and mutter

“Jubilation, no…”

But it was time. Wolfman, a folder tucked under his arm, herded the witnesses into place, elbowing the reporters who wouldn’t shut up. He returned to the spot where Logan stood in the knot of other Ferals, awaiting the command to begin. Logan nodded to Rogue, who stepped away with the other Ferals to leave the three Primes standing in front of the accused, then he turned and nodded to Jackson, who stood near his father, but not near enough to be confused as anything but a lackey.

Pulling out the folder, Jackson cleared his throat and began

“This day, May first of the year 1999, the one hundred and forty fourth year of Prime Howletts’ reign, we, the Tribunal of Ferals, stand witness the trials of

Sabertooth, Mystique, Colossus and Pyro. As it stands, both Sabertooth and Mystique are Ferals, respectively tiger and chameleon, who have claimed Colossus and Pyro as their offspring, and so have pleaded that their young be spared. The charges stand thus:

Sabertooth is charged with murder, attempted murder and abduction of a minor.

Mystique is charged with murder, attempted murder, abandonment and abduction of a minor.

Colossus is charged with illegal immigration, and vandalism.

Pyro is charged with truancy and vandalism.”
Jackson paused, watching excitedly when his father began to speak, his accent strong and his words measured pitilessly.

“By Feral Law, as Sabertooth and Mystique are undoubtedly aware, the only thing we value as much or more than our mates are our children. The sentence, as yet, for each of you, is death.”

Jack paused, hearing gasps and other reactions, before continuing slowly

“That said, from what I hear, you may have what it takes to circumvent that sentence, though it goes without saying that another, unjust violation would end in certain death.”

Kurt spoke next, his accent just as alluring when he said

“As the Primes of different territories, my and Russof’s role is to hold Prime Howlett to making and executing the right decision once the entirety of each case is heard. Each of us has either a mate or a Second who in turn holds us to our oaths.”

It began for true, then.

Every detail was examined, questions asked pitilessly, Victoria taking ruthless notes for the Alexandria Archive, while Rogue soaked in the information spilling forth.

At first, Sabertooth spoke of murder, and then, as he got to the missions the others had been involved in, they explained the parts they played. Hearing these things were greatly distressing for a number of people, including Charles.

Rogue, however, knew all of this already. Knew a tribunal would only ever be conducted if the majority of the facts were had before it began. So while she didn’t know the fate awaiting her mother, she knew more thought had gone into it than a simple meeting. What interested her was the way Jubilee was squirming, and Kitty looked drained. Like the life had been sucked out of her.

Had she ever looked like that, Rogue wondered. Looked so sad and unhappy your heart broke looking at her? The idea alone was painful, just looking at Kitty. ‘Thank Lord my mate wasn’t so stubborn.’ She thought fondly, bristling when she realized that, as Logan’s mate, she had to announce her mothers’ fate.

And then, the time comes. Rogue has been dreading this, but if the talks she’s had with Piotr and John are anything to go by, this part will be already, but after that, well.

“If,” Logan’s voice is loaded with meaning, and though it isn’t a boom, it is still a deep timber. “You were called to a Challenge, who would stand with you, Pyro?”
John falters, before receiving an encouraging nod from Rogue. He clears his throat and declares waveringly
“My name is St. John Allerdyce. Were I mated-” Jubilee throws a sparkler at him and snarls

“If you hadn’t left, would we have been mated by now?” Logan tilts his head in John’s direction, eyes laughing as the young male gaped at the girl from where he knelt. Wordlessly, he nodded, and receiving one from Jubilee, spoke with more vigour

“My mate would stand with me, and I would protect her before all others.” Were she a feminist, Jubilee reflects, she would protest. But Rogue had explained the importance of tradition when dealing with the Ferals, especially the old world ones.

Kitty, however, takes a different approach, she stalks up to Colossus before Logan can ask, walking around him to place her hands on his shoulders and declares firmly

“Colossus, also known as Piotr Nikolaivich Rasputin, is my mate, and chose me when we were children.” Piotr stiffens, easing only when Logan nodded and Jack said easily

“So mote it be.” The other Ferals, including Mystique and Sabertooth, intone in chorus a moment behind him. Kitty clenches a hand in Piotr’s hair, walking away when Rogue motions her over.

Logan turns to Mystique, and asks the same question. She sits straight, and says evenly

“I freely chose-”
Graydon chooses that moment to break ranks with the other Ferals and snarls

“She was manipulated by Magneto, her eldest son will stand with her and so would her mate, if only he knew!” Kurt frowns, Jack glances at his son and Logan asks
Graydon

“Will you also stand with your father?” Feeling his dumbstruck parents gazes, Graydon threw back his shoulders and said firmly

“I am Graydon Creed, son of Mystique and Sabertooth, I will stand with my parents regardless the time or the fight.”

Logan tilts his head, considering. He turns to Xavier and asks in all seriousness

“Xavier, didn’t Mystique once have another name?” The old man starts, nodding, and Logan returns his focus to Mystique, and asks her

“Only your mate knows it now, Mystique. Or will you deny your daughter her father?”

Rogue sighs and orders impatiently

“Tell him, Mother.”

Charles beats her to it, wide eyed and trembling, he
asks

“Raven? Rogue is-”
Raven looks down, gathering her strength, and looks up to say defiantly

“Our lives were entwined from the start. But we’ve always disagreed how to meet our goals, Charles. I don’t regret one of my children, but I couldn’t be who you wanted me to be.”

Rogue rose, about to remand session for deliberations, when all hell broke lose.

Of course, when they are about to forge a new precedent, Magneto attacks. Marie would like to hate him, but it just isn’t practical to hate someone while enmeshed in battle.

Why he decided to attack, she’s unsure. When Jack corners Magneto and Logan rips his head off, she’s relieved. Magneto is dead, now and they have a tribunal to get through. After the body is swept away, prisoners accounted for, and she has paused, Rogue feels the eyes of her father upon her.

He is still stunned. That he has a child, that Raven is the biological mother of that child- it has stunned and remade him to the core. He is still Charles Xavier, hopeful to save the world, but now…

He’s got a daughter. A daughter with a mate older than he himself, a daughter with overprotective older brothers and other group mates. He corrects himself when he sees the deference his daughter receives from the Madam Boucherie, from Aurelius, and even from the wild leopard Feral.

He is surprised when the woman who had assisted Aurelius escorts Jean before Rogue and says grimly

“She flipped out, Prima. Refused to fight for ‘animals in human skin’ she said.” Rogue’s mouth twitches, her eye twinges, but she just says shortly

“You’re a disgrace to my father, Grey. We are trying to conduct a real trial for Sabertooth, my mother and two of their compatriots. Did you really think we were anything like you?” Leaving her question hanging in the ir, Rogue informed the woman

“Give Jean to her fiance, Aurora. You’ve done well.”
Aurora’s smile took on a sharkish cast, before she smirked and dragged Jean away, Shocked, the other woman didn’t protest the manhandling.

Graydon comes to Charles then, and says quietly

“If you claim my mother, you better not let her go.” He
walks away before Charles can protest, heeding the Prime of Transylvania’s command to begin deliberations.

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.

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.

Victor Creed stood with a framed photograph in his hands, from Logan's mating ceremony, aware of the new beginning washing over him.