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The ice powered popstar crooned into his microphone while Robin flipped and slid down the ice slide his duet partner had made. As he sang heartfelt lyrics, the glowing new couple smiled at each other.
“I will be a master kickboxer and win all titles for you, Mon amour,” Jean-Claude whispered into his husband’s ear.
Robin stopped singing abruptly at the beep of his comm.
“You’re going to have to finish without me, Bobby! My other job calls!” He shouted and with that he fled, putting on a black wig from his duffle bag.
Tony Stark was not one to admit when he was wrong, but he was also never one to deny his flaws. One of those flaws was occasionally fighting for what he believed was right even when he was horribly wrong. In the end, those decisions were the decisions that would plague him the most.
He often recalled Steve’s so called death, a heavy weight that had been put on his shoulders by every one of his former friends and teammates. Sometimes he still had nightmares over the looks they had given him, like he himself had pulled the trigger. Sure everything was different now. They were in this so called “heroic age”. The Avengers were stronger than ever. Peter Parker had begun to quip with him again ages ago, but Tony would still always have his doubts.
Then Tony would think of Happy; Happy, one of his best friends still dead and gone, an even heavier weight.
When he thought about Pepper that’s when it took all his strength to protect the seven or eight years of sobriety under his belt. The hell he caused her was sometimes unbearable to even think about.
Sometimes he wondered if he had replaced the alcoholism with meaningless sex. Who was the girl in his bed right now? He forgot her name hours ago. Tatiana? Tiana? Terra? Four hours from now she would wake up and remind him that her name was in fact Clarissa.
He stared off at Manhattan below him from his balcony, his mind cluttered.
He thought of Luke Cage and Jessica Jones. They were probably sleeping soundly in the Avengers mansion; their baby, Danielle, snug as a bug in the crib he had bought her.
Clint Barton was probably rocking his new born son, Francis, in his arms. His wife, Bobbi, was probably smiling from ear to ear at the sight. Of all the couples those two probably had the most ups and downs Tony had seen. They had wanted to start a family so badly when they had gotten married and now they finally had it all.
Bucky Barnes came across Tony’s mind. He was another person ready to join the new fathers club. Just recently his girlfriend, Natasha Romanoff, aka the Black Widow, had announced she was expecting their first baby. Just a couple years ago Natasha had been on Tony’s to do list and Bucky Barnes was on no one’s radar. He was just Steve’s long dead kid sidekick from the war, at least that’s what everyone had thought. The idea of Natasha settling down put a smile on his face. Baby or not, he knew the Black Widow was not the type to just stop. Bucky would be out there fighting alongside her, fighting even harder now for his future. He was old fashioned that way. Tony knew he would be a great dad.
He now thought of Carol Danvers and Peter Parker, Ms. Marvel and Spider-Man, two people he had dragged through the mud in the beginning of what he now referred to as his great error (because of course he hadn’t been wrong, he was never wrong. He just made misjudgments. They were completely different things). He thought they meshed well together. Peter could finally move on from Mary Jane Watson, he could be with someone he didn’t have to worry about putting in danger. And the same could go for Carol and she finally had someone to take to those Star Trek conventions. Tony hoped they would last.
Next up were Vision and Wanda Maximoff, an android and the daughter of the infamous Magneto. If anyone ever had any doubts that Vizh was not as human as the rest of them, they just had to be present when he was reunited with his estranged wife. Tony could practically feel the pain radiating off of him. Vision had said ugly words and Wanda tried to apologize, but by the end of it they were both in tears. Maybe that’s why Vision decided to apologize the next day. Maybe he realized only the kind of love he and Wanda had would cause that sort of pain and it was worth repairing. Tony was rooting for them to pull through.
Steve had Sharon Carter. If anyone felt as responsible as Tony for his so called death, it was Sharon. She was the one who had been brainwashed to pull the trigger. But here they were now happy again, in love. Sharon was more to Steve than just his girlfriend. She was his partner and confidant. Like Bucky and Natasha, like Bobbi and Clint, they fought alongside each other and for each other.
Maybe Tony could relate to Thor. Thor was often single. Thor was often dead too and spent half of his time in the body of a man named Donald Blake. Who was he kidding? Thor had two women. Jane Porter clearly still had feelings for him. Back on Asgard, the beautiful and fierce Lady Sif, was practically betrothed to him. Thor was a lucky man.
Even Noh-Varr, the Kree kid from another dimension who had declared war on Earth, was in love. He had been an Avenger for all of two seconds and he was already bringing his human girlfriend over to visit.
No, Tony was the odd one out. He had a woman in his bed that he had only known for a total of seven hours. She had spent three of those hours sleeping while he had been thinking of someone else.
He was getting too old for this. Or maybe he was being pressured by his teammates’ growing families to settle down. It didn’t matter, the woman he had loved all along was done with him.
Tony was glad he didn’t have any kids. He had no one to pass on the weight his father had left him, no one to ruin, no one to leave his empire of dirt.
That’s a good song, he thought to himself and opted to head down to the garage.
For years a dream would plague her, a simple dream.
She was at the breakfast table and her twin young sons sat on opposite sides of her with smiles on their faces.
“More syrup, Mama,” Billy would ask politely. Tommy would fling his eggs at his brother as she poured him more and Billy would simply frown. “Hex him, Mama!”
“Tommy, don’t.” Her tone was never harsh and the smile never left her face but Tommy was obedient.
Vision would walk in and pick Tommy up. Tommy would giggle and pull down his shirt as if he was prepared for what was next. “No, Daddy!”
“Are you being a trouble maker, Tommy?” He’d lift his son’s shirt up and blow raspberries on it.
Billy would lean over and steal some of his mother’s waffle. “Best breakfast ever, Mommy!”
Wanda would look at her family around her, trapped in the moment. A feeling of bliss would take over, something she had craved her entire life.
She had a family.
But then dark clouds of an oncoming storm were visible through the kitchen window and the dream would take a turn for the worse. Her children would begin to fade and the moment she reached for them, their faces were contorted like monsters ready to attack her. She’d scream for Vision, but no words would come out and he’d only stare at her as if he didn’t have any clue as to who she was.
“Mama! Mama!” She’d hear the screams of her sons ringing in her ears, but all she could do was stand there watching in horror with no voice.
And then she’d wake up confused, shaking, heart pounding and cold perspiration covering her body; The dream would leave her memory almost instantly.
“T-” She’d try to speak her already forgotten son’s name, her mouth too dry to let her continue.
Wanda would close her eyes as her body readjusted and she’d drift back into a dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.
“I will put you back in your wheelchair, Charles Xavier! It is all your fault!”
And with that Kallark blasted his eye beams at Charles before he could retort anything. He flew over at the speed of light, swiftly picked him up with one hand and wiped Charles across across the kitchen counter like a rag.
“If she had never encountered you, she would have never been sent away from her throne!” Kallark continued to reprimand him. He threw Charles to the ground and broke his back with a single step of his foot.
“No, please, AUUUUUUGH!” Charles cried out in pain.
“This should be your skull, but I want to see you suffer as I have. I want you to feel the pain I have felt watching her with you only for you to fail her,” Kallark snarled.
“Kallark. Kallark?”
Gladiator lifted his head and swallowed hard, pushing back the fantasy in his head. “Charles.”
“I said it’s good to see you again, old friend. I’m sorry for your loss. I mourned her as well. She meant a great deal to me.” Charles hung his head slightly and swallowed.
Kallark moved his gaze to the floor and nodded before walking out. He knew in the end he could never lay a hand on Charles Xavier. Lilandra’s death was no one’s fault but his own. He was the one who had failed.
It had been a simple touch of her hand on his that had started it.
“Kallark,” Lilandra whispered and her fingers grazed his arm.
“Yes, my empress?” He was standing next to her throne like he always had. The room was empty now, the council had been dismissed several minutes ago, including Araki.
“Do you ever get lonely?” She turned and looked up at him to meet his eyes.
Gladiator took a moment to examine her face before answering. He recalled meeting her for the first time when she was fresh out of the Shi’ar Academy. Lilandra has bowed to him at their introduction and he had been instantly been intrigued by the youngest Neramani; something that had never happened to him before in all the years he served as Praetor.
His eyes met her’s and he answered honestly. “Sometimes.”
“Were you upset when Oracle wanted to wed Flashbolt?”
“No. My feelings for her that way are minimal at best.” Kallark began to slightly internally panic . Never had an emperor or empress taken interest in his life before.
Lilandra stood and walked in front of him, tilting up and whispering in his ear. “I get lonely too.”
Araki dreaded the meetings with the council. She loathed them. Every week she would arrive early and pray to the Shi’ar Gods that Majestor Kallark would behave like a majestor instead of, well, a gladiator.
“By Sharra, could he at least not look so bored,” she muttered to herself. Gorgon was serving as envoy to the Inhumans for this particular meeting. On the occasion he would bark out an order, Araki would notice that her Majestor’s free hand would clench up into a fist on his arm rest (his other arm was constantly being used to prop up his head, another thing Araki detested).
“Clearly not enough is being done, Kallark. Your relations with the Rigellians are at their worst again,” Gorgon grunted. “Perhaps it’s time for a new approach seeing as you are failing at diplomacy.”
Araki’s gaze glanced down at Kallark’s fist and sure enough it was balled up again. This time he had ripped the underside of arm rest clean off and had let it fall to his feet.
“Perhaps we should take a break. These proceedings must have worked up a thirst for everyone.” Araki interjected before Kallark had a chance to respond.
“Gladly.” Kallark replied and rose to his feet, dismissing himself before Gorgon or the others could say anything.
Araki swifly followed him out. “Majestor. Majestor, I know you want to pummel Gorgon but you must be patient.”
“Leave me, Chancellor. Leave me now,” He grunted.
“But—”
“I said go before I sever your head as I did the last version of you!” He shouted and ripped off the awning above him as he entered the balcony.
Araki bit down on her tongue and took a step back before replying. “No, with all due respect your highness, I will not.”
Kallark slowly turned to face her but said nothing.
“This—this is not the behavior of a proper majestor!” She continued, tilting her head high to mask any fear she had for him. “Lilandra would not want this of you. I know you crave to be in the field rather than on the throne, but you are the only hope we have left. You must carry on Lilandra’s legacy. You’re the only one who is capable of ruling as she did.”
She quickly grabbed and held onto her neck, waiting to be instantly charred by Kallark’s laser beams for her tone. Instead, he had lowered his gaze from her face to the ground at the mention of Lilandra. Every now and then a glimmer of sadness in his eyes would give him away.
”Yes, I suppose you are right, Chancellor Araki. In fact I know you are.” Kallark finally responded after a long pause. He turned around again and gripped the balcony ledge. “I apologize. I wouldn’t blast your head off. Gorgon’s though…”
Araki stepped up next to him. “Yes, I’ve noticed that and so have the furniture. But perhaps if you listen to me on occasion, I can help you adjust.”
“A compromise…”He sighed. “I can do that. Come, Araki, we have Inhumans to prove wrong.”
“Yes, Majestor.”
“Oh, and Araki?” Kallark’s tone was slightly amused. “That was quite brave of you to stand up to me. Keep it up and I may have to make you Praetor.”
There’s no empress suppressing you.
Kubark’s words rung in Kallark’s head over and over. It had hit him like sharp knife to the chest in a weakened state, and it felt even worse. Every time he revisited the sound of his son’s voice in his memory, the words sounded more and more bitter.
“If only…”He whispered to himself. ”Help me, Sharra and K’ythri, I am at a loss of what to do. Help me, Lilandra….”
Of course there was no answer.
He pushed his slightly droopy mohawk back with a hand and sighed. Sometimes he wished he could talk to his guard, but now most of them were either intimidated or jealous. Most of the time he felt trapped in his own head with no way to escape. It was going to be one of those nights.
“My empress, I am at your disposal” Kallark knelt before Lilandra. He was grateful to be bowing. The expression on her face pained him greatly.
Cassandra Nova had left his queen in a delicate state. She had driven Lilandra insane and almost causing him and his guard to wipe out the mutant species. His advanced hearing could hear the whispers of councilmen outside and he clenched his fists in rage.
“Her mind is lost.”
“She’s not herself. She’s not fit to rule.”
“But who could replace her? She is not well.”
No one could replace her, were Kallark’s thoughts. He lifted his head, finally meeting Lilandra’s eyes. “My empress? Is there anything you require of me before I retire?”
She gazed off at the wall behind him. “Gladiator, rise.”
He did as he was told and Lilandra took his hand into her’s. “Empress?” He questioned, his tone soft.
“What do you think of me, Kallark?” Her gaze was still focused on the wall behind him. “How do you see me?”
“I see you as a just ruler.”
“No.” She finally looked up and met his eyes. How do you think of me? ….Do you love me?”
He swallowed hard, slowly pulling his hand away from her’s. “My empress, I serve at your pleasure as I have served all emperors for centuries.”
“Kal, I need to know. Do you love me not as a Praetor but as a person? Am I worth cherishing?” She reached up and placed both of her hands on his cheeks. “They are going to send me away to recover. They think my mind is gone.”
Kallark slowly put a hand over hers.”I—Yes. I have loved you since you came to the throne. My confidence is at its highest when you rule because I cannot bare the thought of serving others. I serve at your pleasure and only your pleasure. Those words are a lie to anyone else.”
She smiled for the first time in days and stepped up on her tippy toes, placing a kiss on his lips.
