"Daddy!" Pietro ran into the room blindly, not caring to note who was in the room first.
Now, faced with two unknown women and a quivering, crying Charles in his father's lap, he'd wished he'd checked.
At the age of six, Pietro didn't truly understand why Charles was now forever in their lives. He loved the man, much like how he loved his Daddy, but he didn't understand the dark, sad look in Charles's eyes when he thought that Pietro and his sisters weren't looking. Pietro tirelessly tried to make Charles happy, but nothing seemed to work. It made him sad.
This made everything incredibly worse for the child.
"Mr. Charles?" Pietro asked weakly, moving forward cautiously. Erik looked to be on the brink of sending his son away; the women were staring, waiting to see what would happen. Charles pulled away from Erik, wiping at his eyes. Charles was surprised when Erik let him go, but then again, Erik's true priority was always his children and their comfort.
Charles was sure that Erik would give anything for his children.
"It's alright, Pietro. Don't worry about me," Charles said gently, sitting on the ground and pulling the little, silver-haired boy into his lap. Pietro's hands went up to Charles's cheeks, letting a tear Charles hadn't realized he'd let out be absorbed into his chubby, little hands.
"Why are you sad?" Pietro asked quietly, eyes darting to those strange women with caution and distrust. He worried the strange women caused the sweet man's sadness; but then, that didn't explain why Charles has been sad the whole time he'd been here.
Did Pietro make him sad? Does Charles not like them?
The thought was distressing to say the least, causing tears to well up in Pietro's big, blue eyes. Charles cooed quietly, trying to soothe the small child. "Shh, it's fine, you're alright, I'm alright, no need for tears," Charles hummed, rocking Pietro anxiously. As a telepath, Charles could sense all of Pietro's emotions, and Pietro, with his untrained, trusting mind, was constantly projecting so loudly that Charles- even with his suppression collar- could hear the child's thoughts. To think that Pietro thought Charles could feel anything but adoration for him filled Charles's chest with a horrible, dull ache.
Pietro snuggled into Charles's chest, whatever he'd come in for long forgotten. Erik stared at the two with adoration, and Raven's eyes soften on her brother. Charles had never been able to ignore someone in pain, no matter how he felt.
"I think you need a nap, sweet boy," Charles spoke, glancing up to said boy's father. Erik nodded in acceptance, enthralled with the knowledge that Charles was so invested in Erik's children.
Charles stood, rather clumsily since Pietro was still clinging to him, and left the room to go to the twins' room. Pietro and his twin sister, Wanda, had only recently moved out of the nursery, but the two still rarely slept in their own rooms. They wanted to protect their younger twin sisters. Charles found it adorable, but Erik was insistent that the two needed to leave the nursery. However, he wasn't too strict on that, since he still left the twins' old beds in the nursery.
Charles was just glad he didn't try to separate the twins. Now that would end in disaster.
Charles nudged the slightly ajar door open with the toe of his shoe, entering the room and striding to Pietro's race-car bed. He gently lowered the boy into it, but Pietro was still clinging to the telepath. Charles sighed, curling up in the bed with the little boy. Thankfully, the bed was made to accommodate for Pietro growing into a big boy, so it wasn't that much of a squeeze for Charles.
"Will you tell me a story?" Pietro asked quietly, worried he might be annoying his friend, but also being scared that if he let Charles go, he'd be sad again. "Which story would you like, darling?"
"Can you tell me the one about the little, blue girl finding a family?" Charles swallowed hard at the innocent, unknowingly weighted words. Pietro had no idea that the inspiration for this story was in the other room. He had no way of knowing the implications.
"Of course, darling," Charles said because what else was he supposed to say?
So he told the story again. He told Pietro about the starving, little, blue girl who stumbled into the kitchen of a palace wearing the persona of a Queen. He told Pietro how the girl had lost her family, but by meeting the young Prince of the castle, she gained a family, a kingdom, and a home. He told Pietro of the Prince's promise. He promised the little, blue girl that she'd never be alone again.
He didn't tell Pietro that she'd lost her birth family the day the girl turned blue. He didn't tell Pietro of what became of the royal family- that their parents died, and the Prince ascended to the throne only for Pietro's own father to tear him off of it, leaving his sister alone. He didn't tell Pietro that Charles was that Prince-turned-King, or that he'd just seen the little, blue girl all grown up and with pain still in her eyes.
He let Pietro believe that happiness won in the end.
He'd let Pietro and his sisters believe in happy endings for as long as he could.
By the end of the story, Pietro was curled up at Charles's side, snoring lightly. Charles could sense that Pietro was sleeping, but he couldn't tell what the dream was. He could only feel, distantly, the happiness it gave the little boy.
Not for the first time, Charles wanted to rip the suppression collar off himself and tear it to shreds.
He slowly got off the child's bed, escaping the room on quiet feet. The nursemaid was nowhere to be seen, and Charles wanted to growl. How could she let Pietro out of her sight?
He'd speak to Erik about it. He knew one of his servants and personal confidant, Jean, was a marvelous nursemaid. She'd been assigned all of the Royal children of Xavier family as her charges, despite her young age, and had even been the Head Nursemaid of the castle. Servants of Westchester Castle had the freedom to ask the nursemaids to look after the children. The Xaviers have offered that to their servants for generations, finding it easiest on the whole castle's occupants.
Oh God- Jean!
She wasn't just a mutant nursemaid; she was a telepath, and if this is what happens to a King who happened to be a telepath, what would happen to a servant?
Charles felt sick. How could he have been so wrapped up in his own fate that he hadn't thought of Jean? The others- they'd be fine. They were mutants- mostly- but not telepaths. Even the humans were more safe than Jean. He'd made Erik swear to him that his people would be safe- they wouldn't be killed. He hadn't thought of someone else being enslaved. How could he have been so careless, so inconsiderate?
Charles needed to know of her fate, know if he could save her or not.
