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Sometimes, Moira wishes she weren't a princess. It isn't that she minds all the rules, the expectations, the constant awareness of both what she's doing and whom she's with, or even all the extra things she has to learn about politics and governing and diplomacy, though all of those can be frustrating and occasionally overwhelming. Being the only daughter and second child of King Jakob and Queen Edie isn't too bad, honestly; Moira knows of princesses who have it worse, who'll have their marriages dictated by political alliances instead of love-matches, who are so concerned with watching their backs that they can't really have friends, who have almost no input in the day-to-day running of their countries.
Really, Moira's only complaint is that her brothers are idiots. And on days like today, when they've abandoned her to hold court all by herself (Alex is in bed, pining over Armando, who's had to make a quick trip home to settle some last things before the wedding, and Erik had a hissy fit over nothing early this morning and decided to go bear-hunting), it's enough to make her want to stage a nonviolent coup and remove both of them from the succession.
She rubs her temples discreetly under the guise of adjusting her tiara, and says, to the twentieth zoologist who's come to plead the case of the kingdom's now-endangered bears (Erik, you idiot, she thinks to herself), "Thank you for your concerns, Dr. Anderson; rest assured, we take such matters very seriously and will endeavor to find a solution that is acceptable to all parties involved."
The solution is obvious, really: until Erik gets over himself (hopefully when their parents return, but probably never), Moira just has to remove the bears from the hunting forests. The only problem is that such a move will require the use of land that doesn't belong to the crown; for all his flaws, Erik personally checks the kingdom's books every week, and while Moira can dip into her personal funds for this (and probably persuade Alex to help, too), Erik will notice if huge tracts of land suddenly get reserved for a "private nature project." And while he'd normally be rational about something like this, when it comes to bears...well.
The last petition is blissfully simple: some students have come from the wizard's college to request permission to start an exchange program with the academy in the neighboring kingdom of Wakanda, and Moira doesn't have to think twice before approving the effort. She's honestly surprised an exchange program hasn't existed before.
Exactly what I thought, Your Highness, she hears. Moira manages to keep herself from jumping, merely raising an eyebrow as she dismisses court for the day.
She's familiar enough with telepaths, though it's been a long, long time since she's heard one inside her head. She cautiously reinforces the shields the way her bodyguards had taught her when she was a child, and quietly replies, I'm not sure I've had the pleasure of making your acquaintance, adding a note of question at the end.
Oh, very good, the voice—a woman's, cultured, calm—says. You're quite a natural at this. And we have had the pleasure, if briefly.
Moira finds her eyes drawn to the far corner of the room as if directed there—and, she realizes, espying a woman dressed all in white, they were. The woman nods meaningfully at the anteroom just behind the throne before ducking out with the rest of the crowd; Moira just barely inclines her head in return.
She's barely been in the anteroom for five minutes when there's a knock on the door.
"Your Highness?" Piotr calls, his voice rumbling through the wood.
"It's all right, Piotr, show her in," Moira says, smoothing her skirts as she sits at the table in the middle of the room.
The door opens, and the woman in white enters. A faint hint of a smirk crosses her face when she sees Moira, clearly noting the power play for what it is.
"Your Highness," she murmurs, bending into a bow that just borders the edge of disrespectful.
"Wizard Frost," Moira replies, with a nod of acknowledgment. "It's a pleasure to see you again."
"I assure you, the pleasure is all mine," Wizard Frost says. She walks over to the chair directly across from Moira, but makes no motion to sit—and Moira makes no indication that she should do so.
"Well?" Moira folds her hands on the table and gives an expectant look. "What did you want to discuss with me?"
Wizard Frost smiles faintly, hardly more than a quirk of her lips. "I overheard the petitions before the one my students gave."
"The bears," Moira says flatly. "And what interest does the wizard's college have in bears?"
"Why, the same interest we have in all matters affecting the kingdom's well-being," Wizard Frost replies sweetly. "But I am approaching you in a more...personal context."
Moira gives her best withering look—it isn't as good as her mother's, but it gives Erik's a run for its money. Wizard Frost laughs slightly.
"Not in that manner," she says. "But I was wondering if a bear preserve might suit."
"You're well aware that I was contemplating one during my audiences today," Moira replies, slightly snappish. "You wouldn't have brought it up otherwise, so please do get to the point."
"I have quite a lot of land that I'm not using," Wizard Frost replies. "Much of it wilderness, and as I find hunting"—her mouth twists—"distasteful, most of it is going to waste, I'm afraid."
Moira finally waves for Wizard Frost to sit, interested despite herself.
"And what would you propose to receive in return for such a generous donation?" she asks, emphasizing the last word. The crown can't pay for the land, both out of concerns about favoritism and because that won't solve the problem of keeping this hidden from Erik.
"I would like to oversee the project," Wizard Frost says.
Moira can't think of any reason to say no; as headmistress of the wizard's college, Emma Frost has proved herself more than capable of managing projects of far greater scale and complexity than a simple endangered species preserve.
"Are you sure that's sufficient?" she asks. She has no desire to owe any favors, either personal or political, to anyone.
"Trust me," Wizard Frost says, with a look heavy with meaning, "that's more than enough."
***
It turns out that making a secret bear sanctuary is anything but simple, especially when the crown prince hunts bears on a daily basis. The various zoologists and wilderness specialists responsible for moving the bears to the land set aside for them have had several close calls, both with Erik and with the bears themselves, particularly when the tranquilizers have been less than effective. Moving the bears at night is clearly the best option; but the woods are even more carefully patrolled when it grows dark, and most of the guards fear Erik's wrath enough that they wouldn't be willing to help with something so blatantly against his desires.
This is how Moira and Emma ("Call me Emma, sugar, we'll never get through this if you keep calling me Wizard Frost") end up lost in the woods in the middle of the night, whispering furiously at each other as they try their best not to disturb the heavily tranqed bears surrounding them.
"I cannot believe I let you talk me into this," Emma hisses, her diamond form glittering in the faint moonlight.
"I talked you into this?" Moira whispers back, daggers drawn as she watches the shadows carefully. "You were the one who promised both an entire retinue of your personal guard, plus the use of your telepathy to hide us from any patrols."
"Well, the telepathy proved useful, didn't it?"
"It would have proved more useful if there had been anything worth hiding!" Moira snaps. "Instead, we're just trapped in a bear den, waiting for someone to find us or to be attacked when the mother bears finally wake up—and don't say it won't happen, we don't have enough darts to keep them tranqed all night, and you know we can't just leave them like this. People are suspicious enough of bears as it is."
"This whole thing wouldn't have even been a problem if your brother—"
"Okay, only I get to insult my brothers," Moira snaps, whirling on Emma, pointing a dagger at her. To her credit, Emma doesn't flinch, merely settling a hand on her hip and regarding Moira coolly, her free hand flexing audibly. "And it's not Erik's fault that he has PTSD over the whole Shaw situation; you try almost losing your family to a madman with a bear army and see how you feel about bears after that."
"You seem to be fine," Emma says calmly.
"I'm not the Crown Prince," Moira retorts. "Shaw didn't target me." She shrugs, turning back to face the cave's entrance. At the same time, she reinforces her mental shields, trying to tamp down the turmoil she feels as she remembers that awful year, the way the entire kingdom had been on edge, the number of times she'd had to grab Alex and hide in the palace's network of secret passages, always fearing something awful would happen and they'd never see their parents or their brother again. It's true she doesn't have Erik's bear trauma, but she still has trouble keeping herself calm in dark, enclosed spaces, and there's a reason she's spent years perfecting her skills with weapons—she refuses to let herself feel quite that helpless ever again.
She jumps when a hand lands on her shoulder, and she turns to face Emma, whose expression shows far more emotion than Moira's ever seen from her, sympathy practically radiating from her. (Then again, maybe it actually is. It's hard to tell with telepaths, sometimes.) Emma doesn't say anything—it's not her way—but Moira nods all the same. Emma's lips quirk up in return.
They stand there in silence for a few minutes, careful to make as little noise as possible as they survey their surroundings, not wanting to risk waking the bears or attracting unwanted attention. Then Emma straightens with a hum.
"I think I might have an idea for how to get us out of this," she says.
"I'm all ears," Moira replies, tamping down her instinct to ask why Emma couldn't have had this idea an hour ago. She's strangely reluctant to disturb the quiet mood that's fallen over them. Emma snorts, but doesn't call Moira out—apparently, she feels similarly.
"There's a professor on my faculty who has a...unique connection with bears."
Moira shoots Emma a skeptical look.
"Nothing so tawdry, sugar," Emma says with an expression that might be charitably called a grin. "But I think I just sensed him wandering around," she taps her head, "so I'll see if he might be willing to help us out."
"He's wandering around here, at this hour?" Moira says. "Does he have any sense of self-preservation?"
"It's something I keep asking myself," Emma mutters, an edge of frustration in her voice, before her gaze goes unfocused. Moira turns back to watching the cave entrance, not wanting to risk someone or something sneaking up on them while Emma's distracted. Everything's quiet, though, as it has been for the past hour, disturbed only by the occasional howling from the wolves that have been taking over the forest as the bears have been shifted out. (Moira really hopes that's not something she's going to have to deal with later. One wildlife crisis is enough.)
"He's on his way," Emma says, after a few seconds. "Just...don't be too attack-happy, okay? I really don't want to have to explain to his sister how he ended up with a royal dagger in his chest. Oh, he's perfectly harmless, you've never met anyone who hates violence as much as he does," she adds, in response to Moira's raised eyebrow. "He just happens to be...well. You'll see."
Ten minutes later, Emma is forcibly pinning Moira's arms to her sides as a bear lumbers through the forest toward them. Moira's about to headbutt Emma to break her hold—like hell is she going to let herself get eaten by a bear, and she's definitely not going to allow this betrayal to go unanswered—when the bear vanishes, replaced by a short man with floppy brown hair. Who just happens to be completely naked.
"Took you long enough," Emma says, letting Moira go. "Now, will you help us or not?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" the man says, seemingly unbothered by his complete lack of clothing as he walks toward them. He pauses when he reaches Moira, executing a perfect bow and kissing her hand. "Lovely to meet you, Your Highness." Moira rolls her eyes, refusing to be charmed; he just smiles sweetly in return. "Right, then," he says, turning to the cave and clapping his hands together. "Let's move some bears."
And that's how Moira meets Charles Xavier.
***
Two months later, Moira is poring over the latest scrolls from Emma in her room, so occupied in tracking bear population statistics and mating habits (miracle of miracles, the sanctuary idea actually seems to be working) that she doesn't notice anyone else entering the room.
"What's that?" Erik asks over her shoulder. Moira starts, jumping about three feet in the air as she slams the scrolls shut, hiding them under the table and elbowing Erik in the stomach in one smooth motion.
"Ow, fuck," he gasps, doubling over. "Was that really necessary?"
"Don't sneak up on me," she snaps back.
"Can't a brother be interested in his sister's secret project?"
"Operative word: secret," Moira points out, rolling her eyes. "Next time, I'll gut you with a wooden spoon."
Erik eyes her carefully, clearly trying to assess how serious she is. Moira glares and reaches behind her—there isn't really anything there she can use as a weapon, but it makes her point all the same: Erik raises both his hands placatingly and steps back with a petulant frown.
"Fine," he sulks. "I know when I'm not wanted. I'll go make myself useful."
Moira knows there's pretty much no chance that "useful" means "being the one to hold court," but she can't help hoping as she says, "And how do you plan to do that?"
"I'm going bear-hunting," he announces dramatically, fingers flexing on the pommel of the sword he carries with him at all times. "At least that way someone will be working to keep the kingdom safe."
Moira rolls her eyes as he tromps off. "Good luck with that," she mutters. If he finds more than two bears, she'll be surprised—and possibly have to have Emma Frost arrested, which would be a shame.
***
Erik doesn't find any bears. He finds something much, much worse: his True Love.
Moira sits through the entire ridiculous puppet show (what is he, five?) before accepting that the kingdom will have no peace until Erik finds this man. Of course, Erik being Erik, the puppet show was woefully devoid of any useful details about his True Love, aside from the fact that he's apparently the most perfect specimen of humanity or mutanthood that Erik has ever seen.
"Erik," she says, rolling her eyes, "you haven't spoken to this man, you don't even know his name. How do you know he's your One True Love?" Erik turns a scandalized gaze on her as Armando and Alex gasp in the background.
"I just know," Erik says mulishly. "Just because you haven't met your True Love doesn't mean you have to trample all over my pain." He pauses, then says, "And I do know his name; it's," he sighs dreamily, "Charles."
Well, shit.
For the Kingdom's sake, Moira hopes there's more than one Charles who happens to be gorgeous and who teaches small children about nature in the forest. She knows it might be too much to hope for, but a girl can dream, right?
"Oh, Charles!" Erik sighs, looking off into the distance. "Where are you, my love? I must find you, so we can be together forever, and so I can keep you safe from the scourge of bears that plagues your outdoor classroom!"
Alex and Armando sigh with Erik before bursting into tears and turning to each other to reaffirm the depths of their devotion to each other. Moira sighs, too, though hers is a very different sort of sigh, full of exhaustion and exasperation at being the only practical member of the royal children.
Maybe Erik falling in love with Charles isn't such a disaster; maybe it'll actually solve several of Moira's problems in one fell swoop.
She snorts to herself. Yeah, right.
***
The next morning, before breakfast, Moira goes for her morning ride. Instead of riding through the forest and surveying the remaining bears as she usually does, though, she rides through the city, pulling up in front of wizard's college. As she'd expected, Emma is waiting for her outside; Moira's been mentally blaring her approach for the past twenty minutes. Emma bows as Moira dismounts and hands her reins to the guard standing at attention at the gate.
"Your Highness," she says. "You honor us with your visit." You're early. Has something come up?
"Wizard Frost," Moira replies, inclining her head. Nothing, unless you count my brother falling hopelessly in love with everyone's favorite werebear professor.
...Ah. Aloud, Emma says, "Your Highness, you would honor me by joining us for breakfast."
"Thank you, but I cannot stay long," Moira says. "Some other time, perhaps. If we could go to your office?"
"Of course," Emma says. She nods to the guard, who leads Moira's horse away, before offering her arm to Moira and walking her inside.
After a few minutes of walking the halls in silence, Emma says, How can I help?
Erik will turn the kingdom upside down looking for Charles if he feels the need, Moira says. I need that to not happen. She projects what she's thinking of doing, and Emma nods.
Well, I can certainly help with that, she says, as they sweep into her office. "Angel," Emma says to her assistant, "can you make a copy of Professor Xavier's profile for the Princess?"
"Of course," Angel says, standing and dropping a curtsy. "I'll do that right away, Your Highness." A pair of stunning dragonfly wings unfurls from her back as she flutters up the shelves stacked high on the walls, looking for the requested parchment.
Marvelous, aren't they? Emma says, following Moira's gaze. She's been practicing; it really shows. The hint of appreciation in Emma's voice twists something in Moira's stomach, but she ignores it. She's just hungry; after all, she hasn't eaten breakfast yet.
Emma shoots her a look, but says nothing. Moira reinforces her shields and does her best not to fidget. She's relieved when Angel presents her with a scroll a few minutes later, and she waves off Emma's offer to show her out.
She doesn't exhale fully until she's back on her horse, galloping back to the palace maybe a little faster than she ought, scroll gripped tightly in her hand.
She resolutely doesn't think of Emma's hand brushing hers as she'd hurried out of he headmistress's office, or the way Emma's gaze had lingered as they'd said their good-byes. She's just imagining things, anyway. There's nothing between the two of them; they're just allies in the bear protection effort, maybe friends at the most.
Moira tells herself she's content with that, but she's always been a little too good at a spotting a lie.
***
Watching Erik pine over Charles is painful. Every day, he comes in to breakfast dressed in his Courting Cape, full of the fire of his love, proclaiming that today, this glorious day, will be the day he talks to his True Love for the first time, and every night, he slumps in to dinner, picking at his food as he mumbles that no, he hasn't managed to work up the courage to say a single syllable to Charles yet. The only good thing about the whole situation is that Erik has been spending so much time "pursuing" ("Stalking, Erik, it's stalking," Moira reminds him) Charles that he's completely forgotten about bear-hunting, and she and Emma have managed to successfully transport the remaining bears to the preserve.
On the other hand, this means Moira's about to run out of excuses to see Emma. She's finally admitted (to herself, in a corner of her mind that she keeps buried under her memories of the dullest Council Meetings she has to attend every time Erik shirks his ruling duties—which is practically daily, now) that she's maybe a little bit in love with the gorgeous headmistress of the wizard's college, with everything from her chic white suits (and the way she never curtsies, always bows) to the half-smile she lets herself show when she's truly happy or amused. Moira refuses to pine, though, so she's instead divided the time she has when she isn't picking up the slack from Erik between practicing on the shooting range, sparring with Ororo, the Captain of the Guard, and coming up with plans for how she's going to profess her love in such a way that Emma can't help but return her affections. She'd ask her siblings for advice, but Alex is likely to just cling to Armando and cry about how wonderful it is that they've all found love, and how sad it is that neither Erik nor Moira seem to be able to say anything to the objects of their affection; and Erik will just get that sad, faraway look in his eyes that he always has when he thinks about how he and Charles have yet to say a word to each other.
Moira can't tell if it helps that Emma also seems to be trying to find excuses to spend as much time with her as possible as their bear preserve project comes to an end. She keeps inviting Moira on morning rides, either through the forest or the city (or both), she comes by whenever Moira's holding court and stands in the back, keeping up a running mental commentary on the more ridiculous of the petitions until Moira has to excuse herself to keep from laughing, she invites Moira to lunch at the wizard's college (ostensibly to discuss the progress of the Wakandan exchange program, but mostly so they can sympathize with each other over Erik and Charles's hopelessness and shoot each other furtive glances over their wine). Moira's pretty sure that Emma would be open to Moira making a move; she just...hasn't found the right moment yet.
"That's bullshit," Armando says, when she finally caves and goes to him for advice. "You're just scared."
"Excuse me, I am not," Moira retorts.
His look is decidedly unimpressed.
"If there's anything we've learned from Erik's current romance woes," Armando says, his eyes growing a little glassy as he thinks of just how tragic that situation is, "it's that you'll never get anywhere by waiting for 'the right moment.' There's no such thing."
"Not everyone can just take one look at someone and then run into their arms and kiss until the cows come home," Moira says, disgruntled. He and Alex had things so easy; why can't she?
Armando laughs. "You want to know a secret? That's not how it happened," he says.
Moira blinks.
"But Alex—"
"Glosses over the week of pining and the two of us working up our courage to say anything to each other," Armando says. "I let him, because I love him, and in the scheme of things, it's not really important." He shrugs. "If that's the way he wants to remember things going down, I'm fine with it. There are far worse stories he could tell." He grins.
"That little shit," Moira says, without any real feeling.
Armando laughs. "Yeah, isn't he great?" His gaze takes on a distinctively dreamy cast, and Moira has to snap her fingers in front of his face a few times to get him to focus on her again.
"So what you're saying is—"
"Don't wait," Armando says, turning serious. "From what you've said, it sounds like she loves you, too, but she's waiting for you to say something. Anyway, she probably knows you love her—you said she's a telepath."
"I don't know," Moira dissembles. "I've been trying to hide it."
"Pretty sure you can't," he replies. "If you love someone—really love them—there's no way they can not see it written over every part of your brain, your soul. That's what True Love is." He smiles beatifically. Moira rolls her eyes, but says nothing; she really does like Armando, and is glad her baby brother has found someone who loves him this much, even if it can be a little much to be around the two of them sometimes.
"Besides," Armando says, after a few moments, his expression turning wicked, "you don't want Erik to beat you, do you? If you keep waiting, he'll be married to Charles before you say anything to Emma."
"As if," Moira scoffs. But she stands up, sailing out the door to saddle her horse for the wizard's college. Armando may have used Erik to manipulate her, but he does have a point. If there's anything Moira's learned from her mother, it's that if you really want something, you have to do it yourself, bears and interfering brothers be damned.
***
Twenty minutes later, Moira's arriving at the gates of the college, Proteus's hooves clattering loudly on the cobblestones. Before he's even fully stopped, she's dismounting, handing the reins to the nearest guard and rushing up the grand marble staircase, not heeding the guards calling after her. She bursts through the door to Emma's suite, only pausing to ask Angel if Emma's alone in her office (she is) before dashing inside.
"Your Highness?" Emma says, as Moira closes the door behind her. Moira takes a breath, finally letting herself pause as she runs her eyes over Emma, drinking her in. She's standing behind her desk, gorgeous in all-white as always (she's in tailored breeches and a flowing white shirt with a dangerously low neckline, her robes draped artfully over her shoulders), and Moira can feel her libido stirring. She strides purposefully across the room, walking to stand toe-to-toe with Emma, whose face is a riot of emotions as she says, "Is everything all—"
Moira kisses her.
Emma responds instantly, sighing into the kiss as her arms come up around Moira's waist, pulling her in tighter. Moira growls—she has no idea where that came from, that's never happened before—and just kisses Emma more fiercely, opening the locks she's kept on her mind and pouring it all out for Emma to see, all her love and frustration and worry and everything, everything.
When they finally break apart, both of them breathing heavily, Moira is pleased to see that Emma's usual placid expression has turned fierce and wild. Her touch is gentle, though, when she reaches up to tuck Moira's hair behind her ear, her steel blue eyes boring into Moira's.
"Finally," she says fervently, the word echoing in Moira's head. "I was beginning to think you weren't going to say anything."
"I'm not Erik," Moira says, pulling Emma into another kiss, passionate and demanding.
Thank the heavens for that, Emma laughs. Now, are you going to keep thinking about your brother, or are you actually going to follow through on any of the lovely things you're thinking about?
In your office? Moira pulls back, just a little.
Anywhere you want, sugar, Emma says, kissing her again. I sent Angel on an errand across town; no one will disturb us.
Moira grins. She turns them so Emma's pressing her against the desk, and then eases Emma back so she can hop up on it, sitting on the edge of the mahogany surface.
Well? she projects, grinning at Emma.
Oh, sugar, Emma smirks, sliding gracefully to her knees. I thought you'd never ask.
***
When Moira finally drags herself home she runs into Armando, who's reading outside in the courtyard. He takes one look at her and grins.
"Way to go, sis," he says, shooting her a thumbs-up.
"Shut up," she says, shoving him before she tries to tame her hair into something resembling order, though she can't stop smiling.
***
It's wonderful, everything is wonderful, and Moira's floating on Cloud Nine for days. The sky's never been so blue, the grass has never been so green, the sun's never shone so brightly, and even her constantly increasing list of duties is tolerable, now that she has Emma to come home to at night.
Well, sort of. She's trying to keep things quiet for Erik's sake, because she knows he'll just pout even more pathetically once he finds out that both his siblings have found the loves of their lives when he can't even say half a syllable to his. So Emma's been sneaking into the palace (with Armando's help) at night, and then leaving early, before dawn. It's frustrating for both of them, but Emma's been remarkably understanding about the whole situation.
Mostly.
"I spoke with Charles today," she says, one night about a week and a half after the last bear has been moved to the preserve.
"Oh?" Moira asks, lulled by Emma stroking her hair.
"About Erik," Emma continues. Moira blinks, and then realizes what Emma just said.
"What?" she demands, sitting up and shoving Emma's hand off her. "Emma, you know he—"
"Relax," Emma says, waving a hand lazily. She looks more amused than contrite. "I just said that if he didn't do something about his stalker, I would. Your brother's scaring the children."
"Emma, you have no business getting involved!" Moira says, moving even further away and crossing her arms over her chest. "You can't trample on his dreams before he even tries to make them come true!"
"Charles likes him, too," Emma says, rolling her eyes as she sits up, too. "He just figured that he should give Erik whatever time he needed, but it's been weeks, Moira."
"That doesn't mean you have any right to interfere," Moira retorts. "This is a family matter, Emma."
"And I'm not family," Emma says sharply. "Right." She slides out of bed and starts pulling on her clothes.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Moira says, following Emma and wrapping her arms around her waist. "I just...you don't know Erik, okay? Messing with this is risky."
"Sugar," Emma sighs, turning to face Moira. "You may be okay with us sneaking around, but I don't like feeling like your...dirty little secret."
"You're not!" Moira insists. "Erik just—needs time, that's all."
"I can't wait around forever, Moira." Emma gently disengages from Moira's embrace and bends to pick up her boots. "I think I'll sleep at home tonight."
"Emma—"
"I'll see you tomorrow."
The door to the secret passage closes behind her, and Moira sinks onto her bed and sighs. She doesn't get much sleep that night.
***
The next night at dinner, Erik walks in humming, his Courting Cape draped jauntily over his arm.
Before any of them can ask him what happened, he exclaims, "Charles talked to me!" He clasps his hands together over his chest and sighs longingly, looking off into the distance (well, actually in the direction of the college).
Finally.
***
"Do I have to say it?" Moira asks later, when she's in Emma's bed (she told Erik she was going camping; he was too caught up in his own rapture to question her as extensively as he normally would. She really, really can't wait to have her brother back).
"Is that even a question?" Emma asks, looking up from where she's been teasing Moira for the past half hour (though it feels like an eternity).
They stare at each other, neither giving an inch.
"Fine," Emma says, pushing up.
"I'm sorry," Moira blurts out, before Emma can go any further away. Emma looks at her expectantly, making no move to resume. Moira sighs, and grits out, "You were right."
Emma smirks, bending back down. "There we go."
"For once," Moira adds, not able to resist having the last word.
It's totally worth Emma holding her on the edge for the next hour in retaliation.
***
Of course, they can't keep their relationship secret for long; they were bound to slip some time, especially given their unwillingness to keep their hands off each other.
One afternoon, Emma's visiting Moira in the palace, ostensibly to tie up the loose ends of the bear project (but really to kiss Moira within an inch of her life and then for the two of them to deface Moira's desk for once). Moira thinks she can forgive herself for being distracted enough that she doesn't hear the knock on the door, though she does thank every deity that's ever existed that she and Emma are still clothed when Alex bursts into the room, exclaiming, "Moira, you'll never guess what happened—Moira?"
"Shit!" Moira exclaims, pushing Emma back and wiping her mouth as she pushes herself off the desk. "Alex, you have to understand, I'm so sorry I kept this from you—oh, God, Alex, don't cry—" she says, panicked, as his eyes start to well up.
"I can't help it," he sniffs. "It's just...so beautiful, you're in love, too, all of us have our True Loves and we're going to live happily ever after and it's so wonderful and I'm so happy you have someone," he babbles, rushing over to pull Moira into a bone-crushing hug. Emma looks on with a smirk, which gratifyingly disappears when Alex releases Moira and turns to hug Emma in turn. "Welcome to the family," he says. "I'm so glad Moira has someone to make her happy, thank you..." He looks expectantly at her.
"Emma," Moira says helpfully, when Emma remains stoic. Help, she projects to Moira. Moira grins at her, but takes pity on her and extricates her from Alex's grip.
"Emma," Alex repeats. He wipes his eyes. "I just have to tell Armando—"
"He knows," Moira says quickly. Alex's eyes widen, but before he can say anything, they hear from the doorway:
"What does Armando know?"
Shit shit shit shit shit, Moira thinks, as Erik walks in. His eyes narrow at Emma, but then he notices Alex's tearstained face, and his expression turns dark.
Shit, Moira thinks emphatically. She can hear Emma snickering in her head, even as her face remains perfectly calm. Traitor, Moira says, irritated at how fond she sounds. Emma just laughs harder.
"Why is Alex crying?" Erik demands, looking piercingly at Moira. She can hear all the metal in the room quivering.
"Oh, Erik!" Alex exclaims. "I'm just so—"
"Scandalized," Moira cuts in. "Betrayed," she adds, with a significant look at Alex as he turns a confused expression on her. "He can't believe that I've been doing something like this behind your back." She makes a great show of trying to hide the map of the bear preserve (while not actually trying to hide it at all) behind her.
"What's that?" Erik says, his eyes honing in on the map. "What are you trying to hide?"
"Erik, you have to understand—" Moira starts, as he floats the map over using a few random bits of metal. She can see his rage building as he looks at it.
"Moira," he says darkly. "What's this?"
"What do you think it is?" she snaps back.
"You've been smuggling the bears into a sanctuary behind my back?" he half-yells. The metal in the room starts vibrating faster, humming loudly.
"I had no choice!" she shouts back. "You've been wiping them out pretty systematically, Erik, it's been playing hell with the ecosystem. You haven't been at court in ages, or you would have heard all the zoologists and botanists and biologists and ecologists and every single person who cares about nature begging me to do something about it!"
"You could have talked to me about it!" he exclaims.
"Oh, like you would have listened?" she shoots back. "Erik, you have a blind spot about bears, and you'd better figure out how to get over it, or else—"
Sugar, Emma cuts in sharply, and Moira shuts up before she does something stupid, like revealing Charles can turn into a bear at will.
"Or else?" Erik asks quietly, and that's the more dangerous rage. She has to come up with something good before he causes a mini-explosion in her study. She takes a deep breath and thinks.
"You'll let your hatred for them consume you," Moira says, finally. "You have so much that's good in your life, Erik, don't let the bears get in the way of that. You have us, you have Charles..."
"Charles," Erik sighs, his expression clearing. Moira resists the urge to exhale in relief. "He's a Biologist, I suppose he wouldn't like it if I kept hunting all the bears."
"Exactly," Moira says. "For Charles."
"Speaking of which," Alex cuts in, "aren't you supposed to meet him at the park soon?"
Erik blinks and floats his fob watch out of his pocket. "Damn," he says. "I'm going to be late, and then he'll never love me, I have to go right this second."
He dashes to the door, and then turns around and points at Moira. "We're not done talking about this."
"I didn't think we were," Moira says.
There's a pause, and then Erik points to Emma. "And why's Charles's boss here?"
"Oh!" Alex exclaims, his expression brightening. "She's—"
"Been helping Her Highness with the preserve, Your Royal Highness," Emma cuts in smoothly. "The wizard's college has an interest in preserving the sanctity of our ecosystem, as I'm sure Charles has told you."
"Yes, he has," Erik says, his expression taking on a dreamy cast again. He stands at the doorway for about a minute, not moving.
"Erik," Moira says. He looks at her. "Charles?"
"Charles!" he exclaims, turning and dashing off, yelling, "I'm coming, my love!"
When the sounds of his footsteps fade, Moira sags back against Emma.
"Well, that could have been worse," she says.
"I don't understand why you didn't just tell him about the two of you," Alex says.
"Come on, Alex," Moira says. "If Erik knew that he was the only one of us who still hadn't won over his True Love, you know how mopey he'd get. Let him at least kiss Charles, and then maybe I'll tell him."
Alex's expression shows just how stupid he thinks that excuse is, and even Moira has to admit it's wearing a bit thin. But her family's in her business about everything; she just wants to have some time to enjoy this, without having to endure her brothers' inevitable teasing and scrutiny.
Alex, bless him, only says, "You're going to be waiting an awfully long time."
Moira sighs. "Yeah. But..."
"Yeah," he nods. He shrugs, and then heads for the door. He pauses, his hand on the knob, and turns back to look at them, a grin spreading across his face. "I'm still so happy for you two! We'll have to double-date some time."
He's gone before Moira can reply with a firm negative, the door closing quietly behind him.
Moira sighs and turns to Emma. "Sorry about all that."
Emma raises an eyebrow. "I went along with it because you were practically begging me to, but really, telling your bear-hating brother about the bear preserve was a better idea than telling him about us?"
"I panicked," Moira admits. "I'm sorry."
Emma sighs. "Sugar, you know I love you, but—"
"Yeah," Moira says quietly. "I know. I love you, too, you know that."
"Mm," Emma says, her expression concerningly flat. After a moment, she says, "Wouldn't he be happy for you?"
"He...would," Moira admits. She stands up straight and walks a few feet away from Emma, crosses her arms over her chest. "But he'd be jealous first."
"Waiting to tell him isn't going to help with that."
"Well, if he and Charles—"
"Please," Emma says, waving a hand. "You heard your brother, they'll take weeks, if not years, at the rate they've been going."
"I know," Moira says, finally. "I just...can't help wanting to have this to myself for a little while; I haven't had much in my life that is." She sighs again, walking back over and resting a hand on Emma's cheek. "I know that's not fair to you, and I'm sorry. I'll tell Erik, I promise. It just might be a few days; he's going to be pretty mad about the bear preserve."
"Okay," Emma says, her face softening just a little. She kisses Moira's cheek. "I can work with a few days."
Moira kisses her. Thank you. I'll make it up to you, I promise.
Oh, I know you will, Emma replies, turning them so Moira's pressed up against the desk. In fact...
Moira laughs as she starts undoing the laces of Emma's blouse.
***
Moira fully intends to tell Erik about Emma. She even plans out her timeline; she'll give him a few days to get over the bear preserve thing and remember that he loves her and wants her to be happy, and then she'll break the news. Gently. Preferably far away from any metal implements.
For a glorious day or two, she thinks things might actually go according to plan, for once. Erik's strangely rational when they talk about the bear preserve; he listens to what she has to say without interrupting, and even acknowledges that he understands what she did and why, even if he's still angry she kept it from him. He even manages to keep from breaking too many family heirlooms, and the ones he does break are the ones that Moira hated, anyway. (She'd decorated the room accordingly.) The change love seems to have wrought in him is nothing short of miraculous. For once, it seems that things might actually go her way—
And then everything goes pear-shaped when Erik finds out that Charles can turn into a bear.
"You knew?" Alex demands, when they're holding a family conference to discuss the situation. Erik, of course, isn't there; he's been moping all week, not even leaving his room for meals. Something has to be done.
"Of course I knew," Moira says. "He helped us with the bears."
"And you didn't say?" Alex continues.
Moira gestures around. "Really, you think we're in this mess because Erik didn't know about the love of his life being able to turn into his greatest fear sooner," she says, her voice dripping sarcasm.
"Hey, hey," Armando says placatingly. "Pointing fingers isn't going to get us anywhere."
"He's not going to listen to us," Moira says. "He never listens to us when he's like this. He's just going to stay in his room and sulk until either Charles comes to him—"
"Which is never going to happen," Emma says. (Alex had insisted on inviting her, saying, "Even if Erik doesn't know, she's family now." Moira could have kissed him.) "Erik really hurt him; I don't think anything short of abject groveling is going to work."
"And Erik isn't going to grovel, not even for his True Love," Moira points out. "At least, not without a push."
Alex sighs. "I wish Mom and Dad were here. He at least listens to them, even if he won't listen to us."
"But they're not back for at least another month," Moira sighs.
"But they don't have to be back for them to talk to him," Armando points out. "There's always the mirror."
"But that only works if we know exactly where they are; it's why they always call us," Alex points out. "We could send them a letter, but it could take weeks for it to find them..."
Emma clears her throat. "I think I can help," she says. "We have a...scrying machine at the college, which can find anyone, no matter where they are. I could ask Henry to find your parents for you, and then you could use the mirror."
"That...could work," Alex says, nodding. "When do you think you could do that?"
"As soon as you need," Emma says.
"Tomorrow?" Armando says.
"I'll talk to Henry," Emma says. "If there's nothing else, I'll go right now."
Moira looks at Alex and Armando, who shake their heads; Erik's wallowing is the only real problem right now. "Thanks, sugar," she says, kissing Emma and ignoring the excited noises Alex and Armando make in the background.
"Sure thing," Emma says, kissing her once more before swanning out of the room.
"Keep her," Alex says fervently. Moira tries to keep her grin from splitting her face, but it's a close thing.
***
"Moira! Alex!" Edie exclaims. "You learned how to work the mirror!"
"Uh, actually, we had some help with that," Moira says. "Emma Frost—"
"Emma Frost is there?" Jakob says, frowning.
"Not right now," Moira says. "But, you see, Emma and I—we're together," Moira says, cursing the blush she can feel spreading across her cheeks.
"Oh!" Edie exclaims, clapping her hands together. "That's wonderful news, sweetheart, we're so glad to hear you've found someone!"
"Yeah," Moira says, unable to keep from grinning. "Yeah, it's been pretty great."
"I hope the boys haven't been giving you two too much trouble," Jakob says.
"Hey!" Alex exclaims. "I've been very welcoming, thanks."
"He has," Moira agrees. "But, uh, Erik doesn't know about us yet. He's been...well, that's why we called, actually. We were hoping you could help us talk some sense into him."
"Is everything all right?" Edie asks, her gaze piercing even through the mirror. "We don't need to come home, do we?"
"No!" Alex exclaims. "It's nothing like that. It's just...well, it's better if you talk to him. I'll go get him."
He dashes out of the room.
"So, Schatzi," Edie says, smiling her wicked-mom smile, "tell us more about Emma."
Moira's grin belies her melodramatic Mom-stop-being-nosy sigh. "Well, it all started with this idea she had—"
***
Talking to their parents seems to help Erik a little; he at least leaves his rooms for meals, and even starts holding audiences again. He claims it's a good distraction from thinking about Charles, but Moira and Alex know he's really hoping that Charles will hear about it and come, or he's at least hoping to hear news of Charles.
"This is becoming ridiculous," Emma says, when they finally call another family meeting almost a week later. "One of my best professors is moping around and making everyone around him miserable because he just happens to be a very powerful telepath, and he's started to make noise about quitting, and the Crown Prince spends more time sulking in his room than not."
"Something has to be done," Moira agrees. "But I honestly don't know what we can do, short of holding an intervention—and the last time we did that, Erik melted all the metal in the West Wing of the palace. This might be worse."
"We can't just sit around waiting for him to pull his head out of his ass, though," Alex points out. "We'll be waiting forever."
"Does he even know that Charles is moping over him, though?" Armando asks, running a thumb comfortingly over the back of Alex's hand. "That might change things, if he knew Charles was just as upset."
"He probably doesn't," Moira says, thinking. "In fact, I'm pretty sure he thinks Charles hates him and never wants to see him again. If we could somehow tell him about Charles..."
"I think I might have an idea," Emma says. "It'll work best if you don't know what it is, though."
"It's not dangerous, is it?" Moira asks worriedly. Emma rolls her eyes.
"Please, sugar, what do you take me for?" she says. "It's perfectly harmless. You'll see."
Alex gives Moira a look. Do you trust her? it says.
Moira shrugs. About as much as I can trust anyone who isn't my flesh and blood.
Alex tilts his head, thinking.
"Okay," he says, after a minute. "We'll try your plan, Emma. It's not like we can think of anything else, and we're getting a little desperate."
"I'm not promising anything," Emma admits. "But I can certainly try to give him a metaphorical kick in the seat of his pants."
***
"Well," Moira says a few days later, slipping into bed, where Emma's waiting, "it took a few days, but the petition worked."
"I know," Emma says, leaning back against Moira. Moira slides her arms around Emma's waist, just holding her. "Your brother came and cried in my office today."
Moira sighs and kisses the back of Emma's neck. "I hope you were nice."
Emma snorts. "I was nice enough," she says. "It's not my job to coddle him."
"He's almost your brother, too," Moira points out.
"And you don't coddle him, either," Emma says. "I got him out of the house, didn't I?"
Moira laughs. "He's going on a quest." She looks at the clock hanging on the wall. "In fact, he should be sneaking out just about now."
"Ah, the time-honored voyage of a young prince seeking his love," Emma says, rolling over in Moira's arms. "You got lucky, Princess." She kisses Moira under the chin. "No True Love quests for you."
"Oh, I don't know," Moira says, tilting her head up. "I did spend an awfully long time wandering the wilderness with you."
"True." Emma nips lightly; Moira lets out a little gasp.
"Though," she says, slightly breathy, "I suppose we could always go on a proper, long quest once Erik gets back. Leave him to handle the kingdom for a while."
I like that plan, Emma says, moving lower. Just you, and me, no one around...
And no bears, Moira says, sucking in a sharp breath as Emma does something particularly wicked with her tongue.
How does the ocean sound?
We'd need a crew, Moira points out. Less alone time.
Fair, Emma says. Well, I do need to visit Wakanda at some point to see how my students are faring. We could always take the long way around.
"That would be—oh!—acceptable," Moira says, her ability to concentrate on proper projection technique failing as Emma moves lower. "Now, stop procrastinating and get me off."
Emma chuckles as she bends her head and proceeds to do exactly that.
***
The palace is oddly quiet without Erik around. It's not a bad thing, really, but Moira can't help but miss seeing her older brother's scowling face. She can't help worrying, either. They'd received one of Erik's special metal bird messages a few days after he'd left, informing them he'd reached the preserve, but they haven't heard anything since, and it's been over two weeks. Emma's been getting Henry to scry for Erik, so Moira at least knows he's alive and well, but Emma also reports that Erik has yet to find Charles.
Well, it wouldn't be a quest if it were easy.
Alex is at least helping Moira shoulder the burden of holding audiences; things have mostly been calm ever since the resolution of the bear problem and since Emma's petition for Erik to "pull his head out of his ass" (Moira's had the petition framed and is keeping it in her rooms to give to Erik as a first anniversary gift. It is paper, after all). There's the odd land dispute, and a few farmers requesting extensions on their crop taxes, but that's about as dramatic as it gets these days.
Moira likes it, she does, but she's grown so used to drama that she hardly knows what to do with herself now that the palace's main source of angst has gone a-wandering. Alex and Armando are almost disgustingly sweet and stable, and even her relationship with Emma has settled. Emma's essentially moved into the palace, and while they haven't made an official announcement (they're waiting until the family's all home again), it's an open secret that she and Moira are together.
It's nice. It's calm.
Moira can't wait until Erik gets home to ruin it.
***
Finally, more than four weeks after Erik's left, they receive the message they've been waiting for: Found Charles. He loves me. We're coming home.
Moira punches the air and is just about to do her happy dance when Alex points out, "Don't you have to organize the parade?"
She groans and thumps her head against the table.
***
And then, of course, after all that preparation, Erik has the audacity to skip out on his Welcome Home parade. Ungrateful, that's what he is. Moira has half a mind to punch him when she sees him, and never mind that he's had a very long, very trying romance (most of it his fault). He's been holed up with Charles in the wilderness for weeks while she's picked up the slack; it's about time she got some of her own back.
Of course, when she does storm home and sees him for the first time, he looks so happy that all she can do is hug him.
His dumbstruck look when he (finally) finds out about Emma is even better.
***
"No," Moira says. "Absolutely not."
"Oh, come on!" Alex says. "It would be so romantic! The kingdom would love it!"
"I am not having a joint wedding with Erik and Charles. No way."
"It would save money," Armando points out.
"...If anyone has to give up their wedding for money, it's Erik," she retorts. "He took long enough to figure his shit out, and he abandoned me to run the country for months. Not happening."
"I have to agree with her," Emma says.
"Well, of course you do, you're sleeping with her," Erik says. He frowns. "And I take offense to that whole abandoning you to run the country for months thing. It was only a few weeks. If that."
"Erik," Moira says, her patience fraying, "you stopped holding audiences when you started stalking Charles. I understand, and I was perfectly fine with picking up your slack, but now it's your turn to let me have my love story." She stands up. "Emma and I are getting married in a month when Mom and Dad get home, end of discussion. And then we're going on our honeymoon. Don't expect us back for half a year, at least."
She walks out before anyone can say anything, leaving her brothers dumbfounded. Charles (who's mostly been quiet during his first family meeting) just exchanges a knowing look with Emma, who smirks and says nothing before standing up and following Moira out.
"...What just happened?" Erik asks.
"I love your sister," Charles announces. Erik glares.
***
Three weeks later, Moira is sitting in her study, poring over the plans for her wedding and bored out of her mind. Erik's actually taken Moira's lecturing about being a responsible Crown Prince to heart (it helps when she has Charles on her side, especially when Charles holds court with Erik) and has taken over holding audiences again; she's been glad to hand over the responsibility, but it's also meant she's had precious little to do.
Just as she starts contemplating learning how to climb the walls, Emma bursts in. "Come on," she says. "You need to get out and do something; your ennui is driving me crazy."
"I can't, I have flower arrangements to choose—"
"Oh, for the gods' sake," Emma says. "Make Alex do it. He cares way more about this stuff than you or I do, and Armando can help him." She walks over and grabs Moira's arm, yanking her out of her chair. "Now, come on, I got the kitchens to pack us a picnic, and I don't often make sappy romantic gestures, so let's get going before I change my mind."
"Fine," Moira sighs, allowing herself to be led out of her study and into her bedroom, where Emma digs into her closet and starts throwing clothes onto the bed: breeches, linen shirt, riding jacket. "But I'm blaming you if we end up with bear-shaped centerpieces."
"Is that even a risk?" Emma says. "Come on, change."
"No," Moira admits. She is not pouting, no matter what anyone else may say. "I'm just saying."
Emma looks heavenward. "Let's get you out of here before you turn into a flower arrangement yourself." She points at the clothes on the bed. "Change."
"You want to help me undress?" Moira says coyly, toying with the neckline of her bodice.
"Always," Emma replies, her gaze growing heated. "But the plan was to get you out of here, not to spend the rest of the day in bed."
"We could go out tomorrow," Moira points out.
"Come on," Emma repeats, shoving Moira's shirt at her. "If we go out, we can have sex outside. We haven't done that in ages."
"Oh," Moira says faintly. "Oh, yes. Let's do that."
"There we go," Emma says, looking on approvingly as Moira practically tears off her finery.
"Let's go before anyone can stop us," Moira says, now 100% on board with this idea. She nearly falls over as she tugs on her boots vigorously. "I need to get out of here, I swear, I'm about to run up the walls."
"That's what I've been saying."
"Yes, fine, you're right, you're always right, now let's go." Now it's Moira's turn to tow Emma down the hallways to the stables, though Emma isn't complaining. In fact, the low pulse of want thrumming through Moira makes it clear that Emma is more than okay with this.
They have a wonderful day; they eat, they go swimming in one of the lakes in the woods, they have sex (a lot of sex), they wait until after it gets dark and then lie outside under the stars, planning the quest they'll go on after their wedding. They even see a few bears, who have started to wander out of the preserve now that Erik's given up bear-hunting.
It's perfect, and as Moira soaks in the moment, enjoying every last second she can eke out before she has to go home to flower arrangements and guest lists and Erik's pouting that she's getting married before he is, she realizes that this, this is what the rest of her life is going to be like.
She leans over and kisses Emma for what must be the millionth time that day, and if she's imagining fireworks bursting overhead, she thinks she can be forgiven. Melodrama runs in the family, after all.
And they lived happily ever after, she thinks contentedly. Emma just laughs and kisses her back, the stars twinkling overhead.