Unknownfate
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Chapter 71
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 03:38:06 +0000 UTCRaven honestly didn’t know what to think. Once more, she had been shocked beyond belief by the knights of Camelot.
First was the sheer power they held. Then the fact that Mordred was a woman, then the fact that she didn’t seem to care about mutants at all.
Then, after finally meeting the famous King of Knights, King Arthur himself, she realized why his name was Arthuria, because he was a she.
Camelot truly was a magical place where nothing was as it seemed. Yet, at the same time, her mind quickly tried to work through what this meant for her goals and the world at large. A woman in charge? One with such power? And how was that different from a man in charge.
“You assume I know about your kind; in truth, I know little; until Mordred alerted me about you, I knew nothing. An oversight by my advisers, that they didn’t think to bring this to my attention.” I slowly explained after giving Raven a moment to collect her thoughts.
“My apologies, Your Majesty, that is my fault, I should have gathered more relevant information.” Agravain, ever loyal, bowed his head.
He wasn’t truly at fault, but saying that would do nothing, so I just nodded.
“Which means, lady Darkhölme, that I need you to fill me in, on all the details, and don’t try to lie.” I had two things in mind with that request. For one, it would fill in Agravain, and it would allow me to know the current situation, and how much of what I knew was correct.
After all, the X-Men seemed to jump around in time again and again, so who knew what was relevant in this universe?
Raven remained kneeling, head bowed respectfully. She didn’t dare rise. Barely dared to look at the breathtakingly beautiful woman that was the King of Albion.
“No lies,” she echoed softly. “Understood.”
She inhaled deeply, then began to speak, voice calm but edged with old wounds.
“Mutants are… born different. We don’t ask for it, and most of us don’t want it—not at first. Our powers emerge during puberty, often under stress. For some, it’s something subtle—like seeing in the dark or healing faster than normal. For others, it’s dangerous. Fire. Ice. Telepathy. Things that can’t be hidden.”
She paused only briefly, never lifting her gaze.
“There’s no logic to it. It doesn’t pass through bloodlines. It doesn’t follow rules. It just… happens. And that alone is enough for people to fear us.”
Mordred scoffed lightly. “Sounds like magic to me.”
“It’s not,” Raven answered without raising her voice. “It’s evolution. Something buried deep in our genes. But no one cares about the science. All they see is power. Power they don’t control.”
Her hands curled lightly against her knees.
“They track us. Cage us. Kill us. Doesn’t matter if we’re peaceful, young, or innocent. If you’re a mutant, the world treats you like a bomb waiting to go off.”
Agravain’s eyes never left her. He said nothing, but his silence was like a blade drawn in judgment.
“And the Brotherhood?” I asked.
“We're those who chose not to die quietly,” she replied. “Mutants who’ve lost families, homes… everything. Our leader, Erik, has lived through more than any of us. He wants what you have here—a home. Or at least it used to be.”
Another pause. She finally raised her head just enough to meet my gaze—but she remained kneeling.
“Over time, I feel like he has lost hope for a better future, each attempt at anything is met with cruelty. Erik is strong, and he has helped countless of our kind who had been captured, but each time he does, he sees more of the darkness against our kind.”
“Stare into the abyss, and the abyss stares back.” I interrupted her. “You fear that he seeks more than just a home now… he seeks revenge, he seeks peace, the kind that only comes when one vanquishes all their enemies.”
Raven hesitated for a long moment, her breath shallow.
“…Yes,” she finally admitted. “I fear he’s not looking for sanctuary anymore. He’s looking for an end. An end to the fear. An end to the hate. Even if it means becoming what they accuse us of.”
There was no pride in her voice, only resignation.
“I still believe he can recover, that he will once more become the man I once knew, he isn’t lost, he has just lost hope.” She nearly pleaded with me.
“Hope? Yes, without hope, it is easy to turn towards darkness. But what do you seek from me? I can hardly change the view of mutants, plenty of people, particularly those in power, hate me just as much as they do your kind.”
Raven nodded slowly, still kneeling, her voice quiet but steady.
“I know. I don’t expect you to change the world with a word. But Albion is something different. A place born from the impossible. A nation where the dead rose, where legends breathe, and hope lives.”
I could feel her eyes on my back as I watched the city beneath me, I knew what she asked for. But could I give it?
If the question were simple, whether or not I could, then the answer would be, without a doubt, a resounding yes. Yes, I could. The difference between sixty and sixty-one million people to rule was forgettable.
So yes, I could offer asylum to the million or so mutants hidden around the world. And I could do it without fear.
Most of them were weak, and with my enforcement knights, I could handle any troublemakers with ease.
Only about a hundred or so mutants could go up against them. And I had a lot of knights. Every day, Agravain would summon more, even though I still summoned more from time to time.
I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t hide from the truth.
My reign was built on fear; I was a tyrant. I needed a massive force to uphold order, to keep people from rebelling. I knew that I was offering a better future for my people, but it would take time for them to see that.
Sure, plenty were happy, but many were just afraid. Mordred hadn’t bloodied Clarent time after time for no reason.
So, I had the ability to take them in, and keep them in check, but should I?
There was silence in the throne room, broken only by the gentle wind outside brushing against the stained-glass windows.
Raven did not press me. She was wise enough to know that a ruler did not respond well to pressure. Instead, she remained still—kneeling, humble, waiting.
Agravain shifted beside me. “You cannot possibly be considering this,” he said at last. “Your Majesty, inviting in an entire people, known for chaos, for destruction—”
“I am considering everything,” I said evenly, not taking my eyes off the city. “It is the burden of the crown, Agravain.”
He fell silent again, though I could feel the tension in his posture.
I turned slowly to face Raven once more, and made my way back to my throne.
“It is because I consider everything, that I will make this decision.” I said as I slowly sat down on my throne once more.
“Raven… Raven, I can’t simply open my realm to your war, but I shall shield those who can’t fight it. If you are to be believed, and I do, then most of your kind can’t fight, they are weak, they are prey, and they can find shelter in my realm, allowing you to fight without fear.
I don’t want war or suffering. But I understand that one must fight for fairness and justice. I can’t end the war, and you know that, it must be fought, it must be won. Only then will there be peace.”
Raven’s breath caught in her throat.
For a moment, she didn’t respond. Her eyes lowered again, not in submission, but in something closer to reverence. Not for the throne, not for the crown, but for the fact that—finally—someone powerful enough to matter had listened.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice hoarse and her emotions held in check. “You will be saving lives. More than you know.”
I raised a hand gently. “I believe I know just how many I will be saving. But know this, these people, will still live under my laws, if they can’t accept that, they aren’t welcome here.”
“I will make sure they know,” she said quickly. “I will speak to Erik myself. And if he won’t listen… I’ll find those who will.”
Mordred tilted her head, arms crossed. “And if he brings trouble anyway?”
Raven’s lips thinned. “Then I’ll stop him. Or die trying.”
Agravain gave her a stern look, but finally nodded once. “She means it.”
“I know,” I replied softly.
For the first time since she had entered the throne room, I gestured toward the marble floor in front of me. “You may rise, Lady Darkhölme. Your willingness to sacrifice yourself for others has earned you that right.”
Raven rose slowly, the motion deliberate and careful, like every inch upward was weighted by years of pain and purpose. She didn’t rise as a supplicant anymore, but as someone recognized.
For the first time, her gaze truly met mine.
“Many may see you as a monster, your eyes, your skin, your ability, but to my eyes, I see the truth, you are a good person.” I spoke slowly but clearly, my every word landing like her heartbeat, making them feel as though they resonated with her.
It might be an underhanded trick, but I did admire her. Few had the strength needed to fight for so long. She had fought for what she believed to be right her entire life. The risks she had taken, the losses suffered.
Whether or not the mutants were in the wrong or not, Raven was a hero of her people. And personally, I didn’t believe the mutants were in the wrong. Sure, Magneto might be extreme, but he was forced to be so.
He did start out as an innocent boy, and was made a monster by the world’s darkness and evil. While I didn’t want to get too caught up in the war between mutants and their haters, I didn’t want to turn a blind eye either.
Raven lowered her eyes once more, not in shame, but in something closer to humility. “I never thought I’d hear words like that from a ruler. Yet, you are as kind and merciful as the legends say, king of knights.”
That was when Mordred snorted, loud and unapologetic.
“Don’t let that fool you,” she said, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. “She’s kind, sure. Until you give her a reason not to be. Then she becomes the blade that ends entire wars.”
I didn’t deny it. There was truth in Mordred’s words. I had no interest in appearing soft when the weight of my throne demanded steel.
Raven nodded slowly, as if committing it all to memory. “Understood. Then I’ll make sure neither I nor mine give you reason to draw that blade.”
I leaned forward slightly. “Good. Because if I do draw it… Well, everyone knows how that ends.”
The silence that followed wasn’t tense—it was respectful. A shared understanding between two women who had both seen too much of the world and yet chose, against all odds, to keep fighting for something better.
I decided to be the one to break that silence myself. “Why do you think I allowed you to see me as I am? After all, I have kept up the illusion that I am a man for a while now, so why?”
Raven blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. She considered the question carefully, her expression thoughtful, cautious.
“It is because I wanted you to see that at some points, we are alike, even you and Mordred. All three of us have been wearing a disguise for our entire lives, hiding who we really are. You appeared here as yourself, risking much, so I felt I should respect that.” I answered for her.
“I didn’t expect that,” she admitted finally. “But… I see it now. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. I never fully understood it, but I am beginning to now. This, this is why Erik is turning down a dark path, because, he has to let go of who he is, and become what he needs to be, just like I have, and you have.”
I nodded slowly, my gaze steady as I watched the truth settle across her face. “Yes. That is the burden of leadership. Of survival. We lose parts of ourselves to achieve our goals, but we fight, and we endure.”
Raven’s shoulders tensed, then relaxed. “Do you hate it?” she asked quietly. “Being seen as something you’re not?”
“Never.” I admitted. “I do not hate the crown, nor the throne, if anything, I would hate the fact that I wasn’t better, a better king, yet as Mordred pointed out, I shouldn’t doubt myself or my path, so neither should you, be proud Raven Darkhölme and be strong for those who can’t.”
Raven met my gaze once more, her chin lifting slightly as though the weight of the world rested on her shoulders—and she had chosen to carry it anyway. “Then I will not falter,” she said. “Not while there’s still something worth fighting for.”
“Good, go then, and do what you most, I shall have Agravain work with you to ensure that those who need help get it.” I said, nodding to Agravain and waving them both off.
Comments
JL
Let them in, Mutants deserve a homeland if the world won’t treat them like people
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