David carried Emma in his arms as he flew towards the himalayas, his surroundings shifting to the tranquil and serene courtyard of Kamar-Taj.
The soft scent of incense filled the air, and the gentle hum of mystical energy resonated through the ancient sanctuary as apprentices practiced the mystic arts.
He looked down at Emma, her usually imperious demeanor shattered, her body limp, her mind still trapped in the remnants of the abyss.
The Ancient One stood at the center of the courtyard, her calm and knowing gaze resting on him as though she had been expecting this visit. Her robes flowed gently in the breeze, and her aura of wisdom and power seemed to fill the space, grounding everything around her.
She casted the mirror dimension spell to separate them from the others.
"You are here quicker than expected. And you bring a fractured soul," the Ancient One said, her voice smooth and serene. "The weight of the void lingers heavily upon her. What have you done, David?"
David sighed, carefully placing Emma on a low, cushioned platform nearby. "She... tried to invade my mind," he admitted, his tone grim. "She underestimated the entity inside me. The Nihility inside me didn't just repel her; it broke her. I didn't expect it to go this far. Now, she's... like this."
The Ancient One approached Emma, placing a gentle hand on her forehead. She closed her eyes, her expression calm but focused. A faint golden glow surrounded her hand as she examined the shattered fragments of Emma's psyche.
"Her mind is in ruins," the Ancient One said after a moment. "The Nihility has left scars that cannot be mended by conventional means.
To restore her, the memories of the trauma must be erased entirely. But removing such memories leaves a space that must be filled, or her mind will remain unstable."
David nodded, already having anticipated this. "Then replace the memories," he said. "But with something nice. Something she always dreamed of, something that fulfills her true desires.
I don't want her to remember any of this—not the void, not me... not anything that might connect her to this."
The Ancient One tilted her head slightly, studying David. "You wish to give her peace and happiness , despite the pain you caused her. That is a rare sentiment for one touched by the Nihility."
"I'm not the Nihility," David replied firmly. "I refuse to let it define me. If I can fix this... I will."
The Ancient One nodded, turning her attention back to Emma. "Very well. To replace the trauma, we must draw from her own heart. Her deepest wishes will become the foundation of the new memory.
But know this, David: the mind is delicate. Even the most beautiful wish, when turned into reality within the psyche, may have unforeseen consequences. This spell I'm about to perform could twist reality itself, to make the memories come to reality ."
"I understand," David said. "Also, maybe alter the memories of her partners in the club about her. She might get targeted after becoming like this. Keep my warning in their minds however."
The Ancient One began to weave her spell, intricate runes of golden light forming around her hands. As she worked, David watched with a mix of guilt and determination.
Emma stirred slightly, her lips parting as soft murmurs escaped her. The golden light around the Ancient One's hands grew brighter, and a faint smile touched her lips as she spoke.
"Her deepest wish... is not one of conquest or dominance," the Ancient One said, her tone contemplative.
"It is simpler, more honest . She desires acceptance. A true connection without fear or manipulation. That is the memory I shall weave for her."
David's chest tightened at the words. Emma Frost, the indomitable White Queen, had built her empire on strength and control, yet her heart longed for something as fragile as trust and love. Its often the simple things in life are the hardest to achieve.
The golden light enveloped Emma completely, and for a moment, her face relaxed, her features softening as though a great weight had been lifted.
"It is done," the Ancient One said, stepping back. "The memories will shield her mind, providing her with the peace she sought. It'll also entertwine with her surroundings to make it real.
But remember, David, memories are fragile things. Should the truth ever surface, the cracks may reappear. She will be gone if it breaks."
David nodded, his expression solemn. "Thank you."
As the golden glow faded, Emma's eyes fluttered open. She looked up at David, her gaze calm and serene. There was no trace of the terror that had consumed her before—only a faint confusion and a warmth that hadn't been there before.
"David..." she said softly, her voice confused and frail. "What... happened? I feel... different."
"You were injured," David said, carefully choosing his words. "I brought you to someone who could help. You're safe now, Emma."
She reached up, touching his hand lightly. There was no malice, no fear—just a quiet gratitude.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice sincere.
David forced a small smile. "Rest now. You've been through a lot."
He then turned to the ancient one, "Build me the strongest mental shield you can conjure, please. I don't wish to turn people into vegetables. Make it so if someone evil tries to enter my head, I can just willingly open a door for them to suffer."
She just raised her eyebrow , but accepted nonetheless.
David turned to the Ancient One. "I owe you one," he said simply.
The Ancient One gave a faint smile. "You owe me nothing . Remember, David: power and compassion must walk hand in hand. Should you lose sight of that balance, even the strongest walls of the mind may crumble."
With those words echoing in his mind, David stepped through the portal, carrying Emma back to safety, her mind mended and her wishes fulfilled.
David carried Emma gently through the portal, emerging into the quiet elegance of her Manhattan penthouse.
The sleek modernity of the space was softened by personal touches—a vase of fresh lilies, a collection of rare books, and a large window offering a breathtaking view of the city skyline.
It was a home that spoke of power and refinement, yet it felt strangely hollow in its solitude.
He laid her carefully on the plush bed in the center of the room. The silken sheets cradled her as she nestled in it. He stepped back, glancing at her peaceful expression.
The storm that had ravaged her mind was gone, replaced by the serene warmth of the memories the Ancient One had crafted.
David hesitated for a moment, watching her. A part of him felt a pang of guilt, knowing that the life she would now remember wasn't real in a sense, but perhaps it was better this way. It wasn't a manipulation born of cruelty; it was a shield, a lifeline to preserve the person she was.
"I hope you find peace in this," he murmured softly. With a final glance, he left her penthouse quietly, disappearing into the night.
The sunlight streaming through the wide windows woke Emma. She stirred, her body feeling strangely light, as though a heavy weight had been lifted from her soul. Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking at the golden rays dancing across her ceiling.
For a moment, she lay there, a vague sense of something important tugging at her mind. As if something very important was missing. As Emma lay in bed, her mind stirred, an indistinct warmth spreading through her chest.
Then, like a dam breaking, the memories flooded in—vivid and all-encompassing, as if they were moments plucked straight from her soul.
She remembered when she saw him for the first time, standing alone near the edge of a grand ballroom during a charity gala. The room was filled with extravagance, but none of it captured her attention as he did.
There was something different about him. Unlike the sycophants and sharks circling the event, he exuded an effortless confidence. When their eyes met, it felt like the world paused, the noise and lights dimming into irrelevance.
She remembered the first words they exchanged on the balcony later that night. She had sought solace from the crowd, needing a moment to breathe, only to find him already standing there with a drink .
They talked—not the shallow small talk she despised but a real conversation, filled with wit and unexpected warmth. He made her laugh, a genuine laugh she hadn't heard from herself in years. It startled her how quickly he unraveled the icy walls she had perfected over a lifetime.
The memories skipped forward, to the moment she revealed her deepest secret. She saw herself sitting across from him in her study, her hands trembling slightly despite her composed exterior.
She had told him she was a mutant, her voice steady but her heart bracing for rejection. But instead of pulling away, he leaned closer, his gaze steady and unwavering.
"Emma," he said softly, his voice steady, "if you think that changes anything, you don't know how I see you." His words of acceptance soothing her .
That night, for the first time in her life, she felt truly seen—not as Emma Frost, the White Queen, or the heir to a billion dollar empire, but as simply Emma.
The memories shifted again, this time to a stormy night. She was on the verge of losing control of her father's companies, the boardroom sharks circling with bloodthirsty grins.
She had felt overwhelmed, her confidence teetering, but then he walked in. His presence was like a beacon, his calm resolve steadying her.
"You've faced worse than this," he told her, his hand brushing her cheek. "And you've won every time."
He had stayed by her side, through every negotiation and power play, offering his support . She could still feel his arms around her that night when it was over, his embrace saying what words could not.
Emma's breath caught as the memories swirled together, each more vivid than the last. She remembered some of their intimate moments —a night spent dancing and making love in her private suite, his hand firm around her waist; the feel of his lips brushing her temple as she drifted to sleep in his arms.
Every memory was laced with an unspoken truth: she had fallen for him completely. It wasn't just the way he looked at her, as though she was the only person who mattered, or the way he saw past her icy exterior . It was the way he made her feel safe, loved, and finally whole.
But amidst the storm of feelings, one thought emerged, sharp and clear:
She needed to find him. She couldn't bear the idea of him not being here, not after everything they had shared.
"David," she whispered, her voice trembling with urgency and longing. "Where are you?"
The penthouse, for all its elegance and splendor, suddenly felt suffocatingly empty. She threw off the silken sheets and rose, determination propelling her forward.
Her mind buzzed with urgency. Where was he? Why wasn't he here? The thought of losing him sent a chill through her. She had never felt this way about anyone before.
Another painful memory then surfaced, vivid and bittersweet. Emma found herself back on the deck of a magnificent yacht, the sea stretching endlessly around them under a setting sun.
It was their first anniversary, a celebration of a love she had never thought she would find. The memory unfolded with such clarity she could almost feel the warm breeze on her skin and hear David's laughter .
They had danced that evening under the stars. He had held her close, his hands steady on her waist, his blue eyes locked onto hers as though the world beyond them didn't exist. His promise to be always with her.
She remembered the way her heart had swelled at his words, how her usual defenses had melted away in his presence. She had kissed him right there , the taste of champagne still lingering on his lips, and for the first time in her life, she had believed in happiness.
But happiness was fleeting.
The storm came suddenly, violent and unforgiving. The yacht was tossed like a toy in the furious waves, the once-calm sea transformed into a churning abyss.
Emma remembered the sheer terror in her chest as she clung to David, the winds lashing against them as the yacht groaned and tilted.
"Let go, Emma. Save yourself !" he shouted over the howling wind, as he dangled from the edge of the yacht .
"I won't let go, never !" she cried, her voice desperate as the waves clawed at them, yet she kept holding his hand tightly .
But the sea was relentless. The yacht splintered beneath them, plunging them into the icy water. Emma remembered the panic, the cold that seeped into her bones.
She had held on to David as tightly as she could, but a massive wave had ripped him from her arms, swallowing him into the darkness.
"David!" she had screamed, her voice breaking. She searched frantically, her telepathic abilities reaching out through the storm.
And then she felt it—a faint echo of his presence, a mental mark she had placed on him during one of their intimate moments.
He was alive.
The knowledge kept her going, even as the storm battered her. She clung to debris, her body aching, her mind screaming his name into the void.
But no matter how hard she searched, she couldn't find him. When she was finally rescued, half-drowned and clinging to hope, he was gone.
That night had changed her. The loss of David, drove her to a desperate resolve. She knew he was out there, somewhere, and she would do whatever it took to find him.
It was that loss, that relentless drive to reclaim what had been ripped from her, that led her to the Hellfire Club. Their resources, their reach, it was a means to an end. Emma became the White Queen not for power or prestige but because she couldn't live without him.
Throwing off the covers, Emma rose from the bed, her movements decisive. She couldn't sit here and wait. She had to find him, to see him, to confirm he was real and safe.
She paced her penthouse, dialing her personal assistant. "Cancel all my meetings for today," she ordered.
"But, Ms. Frost—"
"I said cancel them!" she snapped, her usual icy tone cutting through. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I have something more important to handle."
Hanging up, she moved to her closet, pulling out an elegant yet practical outfit. As she dressed, she felt a renewed sense of purpose.
"David," she murmured again, staring out at the city below. "You stayed by my side when no one else did. Now it's my turn to find you."
With a determination she hadn't felt in years, Emma Frost set out into the world—not as the unflinching White Queen of the Hellfire Club, but as just a simple woman searching for the man who had stolen her heart.