Disclaimer: Warren, Eric, X-Men belong to Marvel. Eithne, Shalidar, and the royal family belong to me. I'm not making any money from this; so it would be pretty lame to sue me.

Author's Note: This story takes place in a reality of my own making, and breaks with Marvel a lot. So, perhaps a little background would help. Eithne is the daughter of Magneto and Rhiannon. Rhiannon, who is now dead, was the daughter of Oberon and Titania. Shalidar is the home of the fairy court. Hopefully any other questions will be answered in future post. Also, I realize that the plot jumps around a little; that was intentional. It is told in Warren's voice; and he would be somewhat emotionally unstable.

Feedback is welcome, but try to be kind. This is the first story that I have posted. You can send comments to akasha@mlec.net.

Where Shall I Shelter, Where Shall I Sleep?

It has been said that you must rage against the dying of the light. For me, Eithne St.Claire was that light, and I raged against her death. Raged in vain, for she is dead; there in that engraved teakwood coffin. A coffin that holds the death of all my hopes and dreams. I see the sun shining dully through the windows; sending refracted shafts of rainbow light through the chapel. I hear the rain falling softly against those stained glass windows, hear the muffled cries of the mourners outside. But in truth, all of my attention is concentrated on that damned coffin; a beautiful box to hide the horror of death.

The rain began falling the moment that Eithne's body entered Shalidar; and it hasn't stopped since. It is as if all of heaven weeps for the ethereal beauty that has joined their ranks all too soon. The mourners outside the castle gates have been ever present; refusing to leave despite the rain. They are the commoners of Shalidar; denied entrance to the chapel itself. But still they remain, for as long as her body lies in state. They had loved her in life as I had; and in death they mourn her just as desperately. She was the princess of the fairy court; their princess. So they grieve, and they wait; convinced that she will rise again. They say that her fairy blood will prove stronger than her mortal blood; that she too will conquer death. They say that hope dies last; and they refuse to let hope die. *Hope dies last*, such a simple phrase, but one they have put all of their faith in. A phrase that I want so desperately to believe. But I know the truth, Eithne is dead; and death is eternal. It has been almost four weeks since her death; almost time to give her over to the ground. Two more days and we bury her.

The people of Shaildar had wanted her buried here, where all the past members of the royal family lie; what few there are. But Eithne had always wanted to be buried in Savannah; in Bonaventure Cemetery. That way all her friends could visit her, bring her flowers. She didn't want to be alone; Taryn had told me that. I have begged and pleaded with the royal court for weeks, and this morning they agreed to honor her wishes; they have agreed to let her go. In two more days her body will be returned home, given over to the red earth of Savannah. Two more days and the end begins.

Her father has been here all along, never leaving her side. Even now, he stands beside the coffin; his head bowed. I wonder, is it bowed in prayer? Does he pray to a God who he has so often forsaken; a God whose commandements he has so casually broken time and again? It has always been difficult to reconcile the two; father and daughter. They are worlds apart; or so it has always seemed to me. A man, Erik Magnus Lenscherr, capable of both so much good and so much evil; a man known to the world as Magneto. And Eithne, a young woman full of innocence and love; a gentle soul whom even the beasts have come to mourn. But the fact remains, they were connected; he was her father. And despite who he was, or the things he has done; he loved her more than life itself. She had saved his soul, given him a new life; and he would give it all back to save her.

Hard to believe that it has been almost four weeks since her death; four weeks since things went so horribly wrong. I should have seen it coming; I should have known. My life had become too easy; too perfect. I am after all, a creature of darkness; the dark angel of death. I have tried for so long to deny it; deny who I am destined to be. But the proof lies there in that God-forsaken box; mourned by all who knew her. Everyone tries to tell me that I'm not to blame. Erik continues to tell me it wasn't my fault. But I see the truth in his eyes; I killed his child! I may not have done it intentionally; but I am responsible. She loved me; and for that alone she died. I tried to stop her, I begged her not to go. I knew the truth, even if no one else did. Her powers had been waning for weeks; and that morning they had completely failed. We had argued that morning about her going to Savannah, but she had refused to cancel the trip. When she had failed to arrive at Windhaven; Taryn had contacted me; and I had began to fear the worst. Then the dreaded message had come; a message from *him*. We arrived in Savannah as soon as possible; fearing the worst as we arrived at Bonaventure. We had found them there, standing on the steps of the St.Claire crypt. He had called to me, taunted me. Then, unbelievably, he had let her go; an insane grin on his hateful face. In a blood red haze; I had raised my wings; firing a razor-sharp "feather" at him. In that instant, I saw his arm snake out towards Eithne; heard Storm's scream echoing in my ears. He had pulled Eithne in front of him, his timing perfect. It was as if he had been waiting his entire life for that one fleeting moment; honing his actions to perfection over the centuries. The "feather" had hit her in the chest, severing her aorta. As we rushed to her side, he had disappeared into the night; his laugh echoing across the cemetery. She had died there in my arms, my name on her lips. She died, there beneath the cold stone gaze of the St.Claire angel. Her blood had flowed down the white marble steps, the rising moon turning the crimson stream to silver. It had been a full moon; funny that I should remember that so clearly. It had been an act of terrible vengeance against me, his "son", on his part. And an act of utter betrayl against Eithne on my part, the man she had loved with all her heart and soul. I killed her, she knew it; they all know it.

Darkness; night has fallen in Shalidar, as it has fallen in my soul. The priests have lit candles, the chapel seems to glow in their soft amber light. Erik sits on a softly padded pew; his eyes bloodshot. He has shed so many tears for her; tears which have flowed for almost four weeks. And I......I haven't shed a tear in almost three weeks. I don't know why; the tears are simply gone. Perhaps it is that I am ready for everyone to accept what I have already accepted. Eithne is not coming back; death has won. He has taken my love, my life, my only reason for living. It is all gone; there is nothing left. Two more days, and I place my love in a garden of stone forever. Two more days, and it is all done. I have accepted the bitter truth, Eithne is gone forever; and perhaps that is as it should be. Some birds are not meant to be caged. They are simply too free; their spirits too wild. Eithne was such a bird, a beautiful snow white dove. And I had caged her; bound her to me with my love. Now she is free, and I rejoice in that; if in nothing else. And I am left with the bitter truth; that everything I held dear is gone. That, and the knowledge that having lived most of my life without her; I cannot bear to do so again. Without Eithne at my side, I am lost. With her passing, my soul had died. It is time that I fulfill my destiny, I see that now. But first there is one thing left to do; one deed that I will not allow to go undone. Apocalypse must die! I will hunt him down like the animal that he is, and I will destroy him. And then it will be done; then I can leave all of this behind. Two more days, and it all ends; for both of us. My love shall not rest in the cold hard ground alone.

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