Chapter Text
Charles Xavier had a respectable seven thousand pounds a year, a lovely estate in the North, and an absence of meddlesome relatives. He had also, a keen mind, a pleasant disposition, and a rather venturesome spirit that would've been better expended at the navy or at the army except he was also the eldest son and heir of an ancient family. In sum, he had every advantage desired in a spouse, carefully accounted by all the families at Genosha, innocent of the reason he was in the country at all.
"I will duel in your place," Raven had offered. "You know I shoot and fence better than you."
"And then what?" Charles had asked, shuffling through the letters. "Are you going to duel every one?" Raven smiled, eyes shining at the prospect. She had never liked anyone hovering around her brother, alpha or omega. Why he stand them at all was beyond her.
"I'm leaving for the country the rest of the season," Charles declared. "People always calm down. It was just bad luck that everyone's in port at the same time. Logan wouldn't even give me the time of day last year." He paused, standing up to eye the books he needed to pack. "It's all very trying. My research would suffer an inevitable delay given a lack of intelligent conversation I can expect. I don't suppose you would let Hank come down with me?"
Raven wouldn't, so Charles Xavier, in his barouche with its baronet's crown on the escutcheon and liveried footmen, arrived in the still rather rural Genosha fully aware that he was near one of the more regrettably agonizing periods of his rather comfortable lot in life.
It turned less regrettable and much less agonizing at one of the balls held in his honor. There was always a certain desperation prior to the the private agonies and, for Charles, despite his great personal charm and manners in other times, it was no exception. Also, he had never, since he came of age, sweated through an agony without desired company. Erik Lehnsherr had a reputation for being reclusive and laconic. He was also in possession of a pair of very fine eyes and finer set of legs. Charles liked a challenge.
"It's a wonder what you've been able to accomplish in a few short years," Charles said over port. "I always thought the country ..more wild.”
"Without Erik, there would be no Genosha at all. It would still be fields of rock and thistle with a few huts," Janos, he thought his name, enthused.
"Could one man really make such a difference?" Charles enquired politely, interest roused at the idea of a fine mind to accompany the fine eyes.
"Erik is both architect and builder of your current residence. Do you note the arches and buttress, the clocks and the mechanisms of the fountains- they are all of his design."
Erik, at the other side of the room, glanced over hearing his name. Charles met his eyes and lifted a glass in greeting. Excusing himself, Charles stood and made toward his direction. Erik then hastily exited the room. The movement was sufficiently stirring that Charles followed him.
Genosha, despite being still sparsely populated, had an over-representation of observant and rather bored individuals who noted both the flight and the pursuit. Those gifted with an eye for detail also recalled that Charles Xavier had his eye on Erik Lehnsherr for the better part of the evening and that Erik had not moved from his spot by the shelves for that duration, as if pinned by that very remarkable gaze.
The Charles should set his sights on the eminently respectable but notoriously irritable Erik Lehnsherr would've been easily explained by the young man's excess of energy and spirit, but not why the romance proposed between the sheets was, if not enthusiastically received, effective, given that Erik had always been mysterious about his inclinations and spent the majority of time in his house alone with his books and his inventions.
It was concluded that nature worked in mysterious ways and it was high time that Erik found himself a confidante. Whatever other hopeful families had lost, at least Genosha gained; no one could begrudge Erik Lehnsherr, who founded Genosha as their haven.
Thus, everyone was rather indignant when Charles Xavier left Genosha after a fortnight leaving behind a visibly pining Erik who was seen listlessly wandering the moors and, who, instead of the usual practical and decorative projects, began working on a series of mechanical beasts that frightened dogs and children.
When Emma Frost, coming down to the annual hunts for the albino foxes, the Genoshans persuaded her, as one of Erik's old colleagues, to call him to business in Westchester. As they explained what had happened, Emma's eyebrows lifted higher and higher until it almost disappeared into her hairline.
"Only Erik," she said cryptically, "would end up taking a frolic so seriously. Cavorting is Xavier's favourite sport." It sounded vaguely indecent, but Erik's mechanical beasts, though keeping away wolves and foxes, were affecting the cows and hens, so Janos merely reminded her that Erik needed some tempering.
Stifling a laugh that she was certain would cause her joints to pop for a week, she went riding up to Erik's house where she found him at his desk, staring at a piece of paper.
"I heard what happened. What were you thinking?"
Erik, despondent, showed her a letter, dated a while ago. "He loves me," he said, then corrected, brows drawn into a quiver, "he loved me. I didn't think it could be possible, but he said he loves me. He even asked me."
"They all say that," she answered. "You shouldn't take it to heart."
"He wanted it so badly." Erik swallowed. "Do you think he finds that I'm not wealthy enough to provide for a family?"
"I really don't think a Xavier would care about wealth in a ..close friend" Emma told him, being delicate, given Erik's state."Perhaps-"
"Perhaps I frightened him in some way," Erik interrupted. He was fretting. "Tell me, is there some courtesy, some Westchester tradition that I ignored so that he...."
"Yes, he left," Emma continued dryly, ignoring Erik's glare, "and it likely has less to do with your education or standing as it is to do with Charles Xavier being who he is. He has a reputation."
"A reputation," Erik repeated. A flush spread upwards his neck as the implication sank in.
Emma smirked. "He is in Westchester at present, but rumour has it that he might head to the university for autumn"
A few days later, the mechanical beasts were packed away; Erik and Emma both departed.. The Genoshans elected Azazel to a pro tempore authority.
Those who occasionally travelled or had relatives in Westchester reported that a public scene had taken place between Charles and Erik. Its consequences had occupied all the newspapers and broadsheets for a whole winter. No one would believe it until they saw the unmistakable jawline in the cartoons, tense and angry, and deeply unhappy.
In discreet conversations, it was determined that the Xavier was likely more trouble than he was worth and thank goodness it was Erik, whom the loyal Genoshans were sure would be able to withstand anything. There was a cautionary tale in the story, but as the parents were uncertain how to put it in unexceptional terms when the children asked , they only said that business had taken Mr. Lehnsherr and his mechanical marvels to Westchester. They would then add, speculating reasonably, he probably would not return.
So everyone was very surprised when after a year, a letter came to open up the Lehnsherr house. And then, a week later, out of a grand carriage drawn by a team of Arabians, stepped out Erik, a babe in each arm. Charles Xavier, to his credit, did not show his face.
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