Chapter 20

Author's note: I would like to address that in Mythology, nymphs are only female. However, to adjust for the race in my story, I took mondo artistic liberties.

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Waiting in the foyer of the palace of Nymon proved to take more of a toll on Ororo's patience than any hindrance on the whole trip. Her feet tapped anxiously on the rosy marble floor as she waited for the guard to verify that the King would accept her in his courts. Not that she had any doubts, but two decades provided fuel for her imagination as to all that had changed or stayed the same of the King and his court.

She had noticed on their arrival that the outer stone walls surrounding the castle still bore gouges and scrapings from the war, the main breaches had been repaired, oddly smooth compared to the older portions, but the older segments resurrected strong memories. The sound of rocks thundering on the outside of the wall, metal on metal, screams, her body already wracked with exhaustion became rejuvenated with adrenaline as her heart pounded and almost the very taste of the field that day found its way to her tongue through memory…

There was the even tread of foot steps, light and nimble, echoing down the hall before a pale, small framed woman with brown hair, blue eyes, and rosy cheeks curtsied to the group. Ororo recognized her immediately but held her tongue, having no fondness for the woman, but the feeling was perfectly mutual.

"Welcome. I am Wanda, princess and daughter of King Lensherr, our Lord here in Nymon. You have my most sincere apologies for your wait, but the King was not fully prepared for your visit." She smiled at King Dayspring, raising an eyebrow, "But he will see you now."

They followed the princess down the corridor she had emerged from, feet whispering across an seemingly endless red carpet, stone pillars stretching more than 3 times their height to the ceiling and various paintings and ornamental armors framing the corridor.

Nathan studied Wanda as he followed. Human knowledge of Nymphs was completely limited and had long alluded to the race being miniscule in size, no more than waist high. Although, when he found out about Ororo helping defend Nymon against the demon invasion, he found it difficult to imagine her in a sea of knee high creatures, especially considering the images he recalled from he and Jean's unfortunate magick session days past.

Wanda paused and stepped aside, gesturing for them to enter the throne room, eyes still fixated on Dayspring and displaying a tight lipped smile. "Does it surprise you to know we could pass for human?" she asked with her mind, catching him off guard with the loud thought.

"How did you…" he began before being cut off by a booming voice in the primary chamber.

"What an unexpected yet pleasant surprise. Is this the queen of Elves gracing my court?"

The King of Nymon stood tall, broad shouldered, with kind blue eyes. Dressed in elaborate crimson and indigo robes, a golden circlet rested on a head of silver hair with length that rivaled Ororo's. He appeared to be no older than Nathan but in fact was no younger than 400 years.

"Is it really you, Ororo? You've grown into such a ravishing woman!" He wrapped his arms around her, laughing at her discomfort from being removed from the ground. "If I had known that gangly, impudent whelp would turn into this, I would have requested you be my bride back then, no matter Pietro's objections at the time." Ororo's cinnamon cheeks became hot, remembering Erik's son's brief infatuation that amounted to nothing, and he kissed her hand.

"I do not think he had any objections after finding out I was a less than demure."

"The boy always did have rocks in his head, but you appeared to make it clear you were spoken for." Erik winked at her playfully then turned to Nathan with an appraising look, "And who is this you are running with now? I dare say, a stark contrast to--"

"This is King Nathan Dayspring of Ayden, my lord." Ororo interrupted, not allowing Remy's name to leave the King's lips. Nathan bowed to the monarch, his eyes not lowering. "Nathan, this is Erik Magnus Lensherr, King of Nymon and famed metallurgist."

Magnus was less than willing to return the reverence but did so out of politeness. The transparent gesture did not go unnoticed, putting Nathan at unease. The older man returned his attentions to Ororo. "As much as I would love to catch up on the past 20 or so odd years, I cannot contain the surprise I have waiting for you."

"How did you know we were coming…"

Lensherr raised a hand gently to quiet her. "Only this morning did your present arrive by way of the Blessed Mother of Muir Cathedral. It seems she was given a command by Tania herself to deliver something to aid you on your quest. I dare say, I am surprised by the goddess' choice but I believe you will not be disappointed."

Jean shifted slightly, trying her best not to smile at the King's insinuation of a 'gift'.

Ororo bit her lower lip in thought.

"My lady, considering it is exclusively for you, I would beg your companions' forgiveness as I escort you to the east chambers you are familiar with?" He extended a hand to her which she accepted, her slender brown fingers being enveloped by his large gloved hand. "Wanda, will you please make sure our guests are cared for properly?"

"As you wish, Father." The brunette girl nodded, stepping forward.

Ororo locked eyes with Nathan and suddenly felt riddled with guilt, her hand falling from Lensherr's. Their business in Nymon was her primary obligation. "My lord, I am afraid I must decline. There is too much to discuss and I do not feel as if I am up for much joviality until my worries are addressed."

Erik's reluctance to agree was more than obvious, "Well… although I most definitely believe otherwise, it would not make a gracious host of me to ignore the lady's request. Do you not wish to at least be settled in your quarters, Ororo?"

"You will keep pushing, will you not?" she smiled warmly and he shrugged. "It is that backhanded sneakiness that will cause me to avoid this gift as long as possible, just to keep you in anticipation's vice."

"Impudent as ever and you will suffer for it. Let you all bear witness that she has no right to complain for postponing the inevitable." Erik addressed the accompanying party. "Very well. Wanda, at the very least, please escort King Dayspring and his companions to their rooms, as well as Ororo's lady in waiting. I wish to catch up on lost time with the Queen of Elden but dinner will be served in less than an hour. And then, we may converse business."

Wanda obeyed and addressed the guests, "Your things will be sent up by way of servants, so do not fret. Right this way, please."

Erik watched silently as everyone exited the throne room. He couldn't help noticing Ororo fidgeting uncomfortably, something that truly was a rarity of not only a queen, but the Ororo he had known ages ago. Her tongue was still sharp, no doubt, but the woman who spat upon kings and decimated legions was replaced by someone with the insecurities of a juvenile, not an accomplished warrior, or perhaps these things were only just now catching up to her, having been suppressed for so long.

He wondered if the woman who had the audacity to insist keeping company with a vampire in his very court was weighing her current judgments more carefully, but primary concern, however, did not rest with the company she kept in her past, but the company she kept in the present

Erik cleared his throat, "Ororo, a private word, please."

"Of course."

He led her through a door on the left wing of the main hall, gingerly shutting the door, yet still garnering a resounding echo as it closed. The room was small, a private chapel with only room enough to seat the royal family. A stain glassed effigy of Tania glowed from the outside sunlight hitting the panes.

"I want you to know, that there is no need to discuss anything of wars between us. You know my debt to you is incalculable and you have my undivided loyalty and resources at your disposal. No matter the cost, I will support you but I do not know if I can whole heartedly support who you are aiding."

She turned, piercing blue eyes glinting with that familiar challenging fire forming that he was all too acquainted with, "What do you mean?"

"Consorting with humans. Forgive my forwardness, but it is beneath you, my lady."

"Excuse me?" her eyes widened, her temper flaring.

King Lensherr almost couldn't fight the smirk forming at the corners of his lips at her predictable reaction to guidance against her will, "They are a primitive lot, barely surpassing barbarians. Your ancestors were nearly wiped out by their kind's intolerance and bigotry and you pay tribute by allying yourself with them?"

"I came here for your help, not your condolences of those long dead. In case you haven't noticed, Erik, En Sabah Nur is building his armies, having already decimated most of the southern kingdoms. That insufferable tyrant isn't discriminating with his butchering so why should I in my alliances?"

The King brought a hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose, brow furrowed in frustration. He owed her dearly and could not be offended by her arrogance but clearly, age had not softened her stubborn edge. He placed a fatherly hand on her shoulder, "Ororo, I know nothing I say will change how you think or what you do. You have earned where you are today, and I do not expect you to understand things you have not witnessed…" he gave her a knowing glance, silencing any protestations she was ready to voice. "But you must heed the words of your friends, use them as cautionary guides. Perhaps I was overzealous in my admonishment… but you appear to be painfully unaware of Dayspring's father. Do not shun things you are ignorant to and do not trust that all things are what you make of them, some things and people can be taken at face value, others hold darker secrets than you cold imagine."

Ororo calmed herself slightly, curious of why Dayspring's father was such a sore point but decided it was a question for none other than the King of Ayden himself, "I will heed your words, sire, but it would be best if you mind your tongue around my companions. Regarding my fellow monarch's heritage but also his medical advisor's."

"I do not understand."

"Hank is a Barbarian, my king. I made the mistake of insulting him already, and would like to save you the faux paus."

"Vampires, Human, Barbarians… Ororo, what is next, dragons?" He teased good naturedly, easing the tension.

"Whatever Tania gives me I will accept without question."

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150 miles away…

The scene is that of death and destruction, bathed in the waning light of the sunset. Fractured remains of the human city, Travent, lay in ruins at the base of a cliff, smoke billowing off of the destroyed buildings, carrying the smell of charred flesh to two figures, a man and a silver wolf, she in mournful silence, the creature howling in unimaginable pain.

The woman stood 5'8", with flowing purple hair waving in the wind and purple eyes to match, clad in a scarred leather bodysuit, sleeveless and legless and a crisscross of buckles along the back. Her skin bore black bands tattooed around her arms and legs, and a red tattoo sits over her left eye, each the markings of a warrior.

After several minutes, the distressed creature ended its cries and rested upon its haunches, the fur covering its body receding into its skin, the wolf frame shrinking in the waist and widening at the shoulders, muzzle flattening and morphing to the form of a human man.

Fully transformed, her male companion barely reached her shoulders in height. Black and silver hair covered his head, swept back to points on either side of his head and his clothing now hung on him as tattered rags.

Of small frame, but solid as stone, his body showed a mess of pale, jagged scars from many wars and deadly blows, injuries that would have killed normal humans. His eyes, a cold gray, scanned the scene below as he sniffed the air for any clue that may answer the question of what had happened.

A low growl erupted from his throat as six bone claws popped out of the backs of his wrists, three protrusions from each hand. There is always a burning pain as they exit his skin, but in a twisted way, he enjoys it. It is a constant reminder of what he could be: not a harmless dog but a savage creature with insatiable bloodlust, and oddly, the pain keeps him sane.

Usually.

The rage he feels right now burns to escape. His joints ache and so do his fangs, fighting to grow, to change completely. He can already feel the hair prickling once more on his back and his spine beginning to twist to a new form as he fights to control his body.

The woman, more than aware of his struggle, calmly placed a slender hand on her husband's shoulder. "I understand your anger, Logan m'love but I am still here with you. We must head down and search for survivors… as I fear we are the only ones left to exact vengeance." Her voice is firm but her body language emanated sorrow. He wondered how she could remain standing in her grief. Her words and touch are enough to stay the beast.

For now.

"Y' don't actually think … they could've…"

"Not a chance." She held back her tears. Tears of anger, sadness, and guilt. If they had stayed behind… maybe… just maybe, they could have done something and she wouldn't be facing her greatest fear: discovering the broken body of their only son lying in the rubble. "James, beautiful little James." She whispered.

She wondered if it was that fear that forced her magick to exhaust at the top of the cliff, where there were no shadows to travel along to reach Travent.

He could smell fear and doubt all over her and reached out, taking her slender hand in his large callused one, the most simple of gestures to show his love and support. A tear slid down her cheek and she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in the top of his head, not wanting to let go of the one piece of reality that was constant for her. She breathed deeply of his scent- a mixture of sweat and nature- one many found appalling but she loved with no end.

The man held her tight and rubbed her back with his hand. "S'ok Betts. We'll go down n' find someone. I swear on my life, Nur will pay. I doubt the whole world is going to just go belly up without a fight."

"Your life and mine." Forcing her tears away, she gathered him into a passionate kiss. "Let's go."

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Nymon

Locking the door behind her to the bath chamber, Ororo began to relax, finally able to enjoy a moment to herself and collect her thoughts. The arduous trip, though actually enjoyable, was causing her to become crankier from the lack of personal space. She had found herself practically begging the Great Faerie to grant her cause to escape the banquet.

It wasn't the late hour, she was more than used to long nights anymore, but all curiosity of the 'gift' from Lensherr having escaped long ago, she had become apathetic as time wore on, she had no appetite since the start of the evening, and an unnerving restlessness to get away from everyone and everything that had a pulse.

The wonderful solitude of a private hot bath was more than welcome to her. Whatever present was waiting in her bedroom would be able to wait another hour while she relaxed.

The first thing Ororo did was pull open the windows to allow the night to enter the room as well as give her view of the waxing moon, and then proceeded to read over the toiletries on the nearby shelf, locating her old favorite, a small mesh bag of foaming salts.

Just like the palace, next to nothing had changed in this ancient bathroom, although the room was certainly grand as it was old. The tub lay sunken in the granite floor, a beautiful mosaic of mermaids formed from blue, gold, and green tiles and one large golden fixture curved over the edge of the tub, flanked by four mermaid sculptures on all sides of the tub, each holding a golden conch shell.

She tossed the bag of foam salts into the bath and turned the golden handle on the main faucet. Instantly, soft blue lights from the tiles on the tub floor began to glow, reacting to warmer temperature of the water cascading from all of the main faucet and each mermaid's conch shell, the lights reflecting in the water and sending glowing webs dancing on the large oak beams set in the ceiling above her.

Ororo gingerly removed her dirt stained violet tunic, discarding it by the side of the tub along with her black pants, leather boots and sword which was partially out of its scabbard. Pulling the leather string from her hair, she allowed the platinum locks to tumble down her back freely, a much softer contrast than the harsh wool of her tunic. Lastly, she untied the knot on the front of her gray and silver brocade corset and wriggled out of it, thankful to be rid of restrictive device.

Standing before the full length mirror, she was briefly reminded of how much she had changed since her last visit to Lensherr's palace. She no longer had short boyish hair and had indeed gained the curves and poise of a woman. A queen. Inwardly, she mourned her age, longing for the days as a princess on the run.

She turned away from the mirror, disgusted with her evolution. The bath was nearly full so she turned the faucets off, dipping her foot in the glowing sudsy water, becoming almost hypnotized by the steam wisps brimming from the surface. On a whim, she jumped in with abandon, submerging herself fully, the heat of it rushing over her in a cleansing wave. A brief moment, she wondered if she could stay under there forever, protected in her watery cocoon, eyes and ears closed to all worldly matters.

Her lungs begged to differ.

She broke the surface, taking in a big gulp of air she rubbed her eyes roughly, not even bothering to open them and wrung her hair out, lifting it out of the water over the gold rim of the tub as she rested her back against it, listening to the rhythm of her breathing.

It was then first waves of panic set in, bringing a cold sweat, goose bumps prickled up her arms. At first she thought it was the frigid breeze blowing through the open window, but no matter what her mind told her, her heart said otherwise.

One glance at her sword, the metal now glowing a brilliant white and humming softly with energy, and she couldn't deny it. The blade only reacted that way when demons lurked nearby. Only one demon came to mind.

Ororo crawled out of the bath, stretching across the cold stone floor, pulling the sword fully from its sheath and re-submerged herself in the tub, shivering slightly as the hot water touched her cold skin, and kept the sword hidden in the glowing milky water, fingers clenched tightly in their familiar grooves around the handle, muscles taut with trepidation.

She murmured a prayer and closed her eyes tightly, afraid that her might betray what she felt, afraid it was just another dream but the distance had been to great, and the cause too long absent for her not to know…

He was here.

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YAY! I FINALLY UPDATED! WOOT WOOT WOOT! (does the hamster dance). I'm sorry (as always) to everyone reading this, it's a long train running but it's chugging once more. I hope the other drabbles I've smacked together in the meantime have been able to stave off the angry mobs :p

Leave suggestions, puzzlements, and other various rabbles and corrections- I'll reply to them all.

Head count! Who's appeared in the fic so far?

Achmed El-Gibar, Storm, Gambit, Cable, Phoenix, Shadowcat, Cannonball, Shatterstar, Sunspot, Beast, Marrow, Wolverine, Psylocke, Magneto, Scarlet Witch, Moira Mactaggert, Madelyne Pryor, Callisto, Mystique, Rogue, Bella Donna, Apocalypse, Mr. Sinister … have I forgotten anyone? Because I am going to have a hell of a time keeping these all together and giving them action time ;) Hence, the Epic- ugh! hehe