The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters was no stranger to powerful visitors, but today felt different.
A quiet tension filled the air as students whispered in the halls, peering curiously out of windows at the sleek black Sokovian aircraft that had just touched down on the mansion grounds. Wanda Maximoff had arrived.
The Scarlet Queen stepped off the aircraft, flanked by Natasha Romanoff, Talia Stark, and Gwen Stacy, each dressed impeccably. Wanda's long crimson coat billowed behind her as she strode forward, her glowing red eyes scanning the towering mansion before her.
At the front steps, waiting with composed anticipation, stood Professor Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, and Storm.
Xavier's posture was polite but tense. Jean's expression was curious yet wary, while Storm's sharp gaze studied Wanda carefully, her arms crossed over her chest.
The moment Wanda locked eyes with Xavier, she smirked.
"Charles," she purred. "You're looking well. What's your secret? Is it the lack of hair? Must save hours in the morning on styling."
Silence.
Jean's lips twitched. Storm, standing beside her, let out a small chuckle before clearing her throat, trying to suppress her amusement.
Xavier exhaled slowly. "I see you haven't changed."
"Oh, but I have," Wanda mused, her lips curling into a slow smile. "I've just perfected it."
Jean shook her head, still smirking. "I like her style."
Storm gave an amused hum. "You're not the only one."
Wanda definitely heard that, and her smirk deepened ever so slightly.
Xavier, clearly deciding to move past the mockery, gestured toward the entrance. "Shall we take this inside?"
Wanda tilted her head. "Of course. Unless you'd prefer to bask in the evening breeze and let me admire that flawless dome a little longer."
Jean outright laughed. Storm pressed a hand to her lips, looking away.
Xavier sighed. "This is going to be a long conversation."
Wanda winked as she strolled past him. "Let's make it interesting, then."
Inside Xavier's grand study, the fireplace crackled softly, casting warm light over the vast bookshelves lining the walls. Wanda settled into an armchair with regal ease, her legs crossed elegantly.
Jean and Storm stood to the side, while Xavier wheeled himself into position across from her, his fingers interlocked as he examined her carefully.
Talia, Natasha, and Gwen took their own seats, their relaxed yet alert postures indicating they were ready to jump in at a moment's notice—whether that be in conversation or competition with Storm and Jean.
Xavier was the first to speak. "Wanda, why are you here again"
Wanda's eyes flickered with amusement. "Straight to business? You really must be fun at parties, Charles."
Storm smirked, Jean rolled her eyes, and Xavier… exhaled heavily.
"Alright, alright," Wanda relented, resting her chin on her hand. "I came here to see an old friend." She let the words hang before adding, "And to meet some new ones."
Jean crossed her arms, her gaze sharp. "And to what end?"
Wanda turned her head slightly, red eyes glowing faintly as they traced over Jean, then Storm. "Must I always have an end goal?"
Jean pursed her lips but didn't answer.
Storm, however, tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "Powerful people always have an agenda," she said smoothly. "The question is what yours is."
Wanda hummed, her gaze settling on Storm now.
"You intrigue me," Wanda admitted. "Not just because of your power, but because you carry a presence that reminds me of my own."
Storm blinked. "Oh?"
Wanda leaned forward slightly. "People used to worship you, didn't they?"
Storm's posture stiffened for a fraction of a second before she responded coolly, "Yes."
Jean's eyes widened slightly. "How do you know that?"
Wanda simply smiled. "I can feel it."
Storm remained still, but internally, her thoughts were a storm of their own.
She had indeed once been worshipped as a goddess in her village, her ability to command the skies seen as divine power. She had long since let go of that title, but now, here was Wanda Maximoff, a woman who radiated the same mystical authority, someone she could easily see the world bowing to in reverence one day.
She'd never met another mutant who carried that same energy.
Wanda continued, "You were seen as a goddess, and yet here you are, following a man who believes mutants should blend into society."
Xavier spoke up immediately, his voice firm. "Because Ororo believes in unity, not dominance."
Wanda sighed dramatically, turning back to Charles with a look of exasperation. "And there we go again, Charles. You act as though asking for respect is the same as demanding submission. Mutants are already hunted, feared, and oppressed. And you expect me to believe that if we just 'work together,' the world will suddenly see us as equals?"
She crossed her arms, her tone sharp. "Besides, the last time I ran into the Brotherhood in New York, they were after the Morlocks—my new subjects. I've come to deal with this issue, to relocate the remaining Morlocks in New York, and to handle Magneto. He's up to something, as we discussed before, and I refuse to let mutants become even more vilified than they already are."
Her gaze locked onto his, challenging. "Tell me, Charles—do you really believe mutants can resolve things without an adequate show of force? Or are you still clinging to the idea that peace comes without power?"
Xavier remained calm. "Not overnight. But yes, I believe it's possible to coexist without such drastic means."
Wanda arched an eyebrow. "Charles your unbearably naive!"
Jean, watching the exchange, cut in. "And you're a realist?"
Wanda's lips curled. "I'm a Queen."
The weight of that statement settled over the room, Jean and Storm exchanging glances before Storm finally spoke.
"You truly believe the world will kneel to you?"
Wanda smiled. "Not kneel. Follow. There's a difference. Besides, I don't seek to control the world that's way too much paperwork. I'm only concerned with the safety of those who follow me.
Storm hated that the answer made sense.
At some point, Wanda turned back to Jean, her red eyes glimmering with interest.
"You're a beautiful woman, Jean."
Jean, caught off guard, faltered for a split second before composing herself. "And you're… very forward."
Wanda laughed, the sound smooth and intoxicating. "Why hide admiration when it's genuine?"
Jean opened her mouth to counter that but… she couldn't.
Natasha, ever the agent of chaos, casually remarked from her seat, "Careful, Wanda. You're going to make your women jealous."
Talia, sipping her drink, smirked. "A true Queen should accept all who adore her."
Jean turned red. Storm, ever composed, merely tilted her head in thought.
"A true woman," Storm murmured, "accepts all of her lover's partners with grace."
The room went silent.
Talia grinned. Natasha raised an eyebrow. Jean… looked like she short-circuited.
And Wanda?
Wanda smirked.
"Now that," Wanda said, standing gracefully, "is an interesting philosophy."
Storm, holding Wanda's gaze, smiled. "It is my philosophy."
Jean swallowed. Hard.
As Wanda prepared to leave, she turned to Jean one last time.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and for just a second—she felt something.
Something buried deep in Jean's mind.
Something powerful. Restrained.
It was faint, like a whisper beneath layers of psychic suppression.
Wanda blinked.
She wasn't sure what she just felt.
But she knew it was something important.
Jean, oblivious to Wanda's brief discovery, forced herself to act normal. "Will you be staying in New York for long?"
Wanda smiled. "Oh, I'll be around."
Jean wasn't sure if that thrilled or terrified her.
Storm, watching Jean's reaction, simply smirked.
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