I continued to explain things to her, wanting her and the nobles behind her to know my plans, or at least some of them. I hoped that she would support me, because while I didn't need her support, I still wanted it.
Elizabeth set her cup down gently, the soft clink of porcelain against porcelain breaking the brief, thoughtful silence that had settled between us. Her sharp blue eyes met mine, a hint of something more cautious, perhaps even hesitant, flickering in their depths.
"There is one more matter I wish to discuss, Your Majesty," she said slowly, her tone careful, measured. "One that many of the nobility have expressed their concerns over. It involves Albion's place in the world, and our standing among the nations."
I felt like we had already covered just that topic, but I still nodded my head. "Go on."
She hesitated for a moment, her gloved fingers lightly tapping against the armrest of her chair, a small, nervous gesture that seemed out of place for someone as poised and composed as the former queen.
"As you know," she began, her voice steady once more, "the United Nations is holding a special assembly in the coming weeks, a critical one, by all accounts. There are rumors that certain nations, those who view Albion's rise with suspicion or even outright hostility, intend to use this meeting as an opportunity to undermine our legitimacy, to isolate us on the world stage."
"And while your words do ease me somewhat, I fear that this meeting will deny Albion the time it needs to reach your goals." She continued, all while carefully watching my expression.
My expression was indeed not looking good, I very much didn't enjoy having the world move against me. It was entirely against my divine self. The goddess inside me hated having mortals try to dictate my path.
If they wanted that, they should prove themselves worthy of it first, as that mortal master had done in Camelot.
"And the nobility wishes for Albion to have a voice at this assembly?" I asked, my tone calm, having guessed what she wanted.
Elizabeth inclined her head slightly, her eyes never leaving mine. "Precisely. They believe that your presence, that your voice, could serve as a powerful counter to the narrative that Albion is a rogue state, a nation of rebels and radicals.
They believe that if you were to stand before the world, to speak for Albion, it would send a powerful message — that we are not merely a breakaway province, but a true nation, a sovereign power, a force to be respected."
I considered her words carefully, my mind already weighing the risks, the potential rewards. How might it interact with my plans?
Appearing at the United Nations would undoubtedly draw attention and place me and my realm firmly in the world's spotlight. I would be expected to answer questions, and it could give some legitimacy to the UN, more than I might want.
But she wasn't wrong, I still needed time, needed the current situation to last just a little bit longer. What to do, what to do…
"I see," I said slowly, my fingers lightly tapping against the armrest of my chair as I considered her proposal. "And what do you think, Your Grace? Do you believe that my presence at this assembly would truly make a difference?"
Elizabeth's lips tightened slightly, her eyes narrowing in thought. "I believe it would, Your Majesty. You are not just the ruler of Albion, you are a symbol, a legend reborn. Your words carry weight, your presence commands respect. If you were to stand before the world, to declare Albion's place among the nations, it would be a statement that no one could ignore."
Albion's place among the nations, she says… there it is, the inability to realize that Albion's place was already secured, and that it didn't need someone else to recognize that fact.
I didn't blame her for not seeing that; she was still stuck thinking like she was used to. Thinking that diplomacy was still played by the old rules.
Still, she wasn't the only one that was stuck thinking like that, the whole world was a step behind… perhaps this would be a good way to catch everyone up to the reality of things…
"Very well," I said at last, my voice firm, and a bit of a mischievous glint in my eyes. "I will consider it. If the nobles of Albion wish for me to speak on their behalf, to stand as their voice in the halls of the United Nations, then I shall not disappoint them."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," she said, inclining her head slightly. "I shall convey your words to the others. I am certain they will be most pleased to hear that you are considering their request."
We spent a bit longer, me asking what they could do for me in return, the normal dealings with nobles, though I had to admit, she was a very pleasant woman. Even despite the fact that I had taken her kingdom away, she didn't hold a grudge.
In fact, it felt almost like she was pleased with it, like a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Well, she was getting up in the years, and now she had more time to spend with her family.
So, perhaps I did help her out, and if not, surely the small amount of healing I did should have helped her feel a bit younger.
"I will see to it, Your Majesty," she said, her tone firm, her eyes clear. "You shall have their loyalty. Albion will stand as one."
"Very well, Your Grace," I said at last, my tone calm, my gaze steady. "Then let us work together, as king and noble, as ruler and subject, to build a realm where the people will know no suffering."
Elizabeth inclined her head once more, "Yes, Your Majesty."
-----
Camelot continued to host new guests every day, while a few reached the same level of fame as the former queen of the United Kingdom. That didn't mean that some didn't have a fame of their own.
Barely had the Duchess of Lancaster left, before another special guest arrived, this one just as day started to turn to night, and the crowds lessened as people went home for the night.
To reach Camelot, most people used the train; it was easy, fast, and cheap. No need to pay huge fees to park your car near the city.
Yet, not everyone used those methods; Loki and Thor had used the Bifrost, and this guest came flying.
A small, high-tech, state-of-the-art military secret project, a sleek, small jet, neared the airspace of Camelot. Yet, it was careful not to breach it, and instead touched down just outside it.
Should anyone happen to spot the small stealthy craft, they would surely be shocked at just how precise its landing was. No known jets could land like that, as if a helicopter.
Yet those in the know knew that many such advanced crafts owned the sky, be it the X-men's jet, SHIELD's jet, or this one.
For this particular vessel, it was another American secret project; billions of taxpayer dollars had been pumped into it. Yet, here it was, in Albion, and the people flying it? They weren't American at all; in fact, one of them was among the top of the most wanted list.
Erik Lehnsherr, better known to the world as Magneto, gazed out at the sprawling, gleaming city before him, his sharp, piercing eyes taking in every detail with a mixture of curiosity and cautious respect.
Beside him, stood Raven, also known as Mystique. She was familiar with the city, having spent much of her time here over the past year, being the ambassador between the Brotherhood and Albion.
"It's impressive, isn't it?" Mystique's voice broke his reverie, her tone light, almost playful.
Magneto allowed himself a small, satisfied smile, his sharp eyes never leaving the distant walls of Camelot. "It is," he admitted, his tone thoughtful, almost reverent. "A place of power, a stronghold, one day, our kind too shall have something like it."
Mystique chuckled softly, crossing her arms over her chest, her head tilting slightly as she regarded the towering white walls in the distance. "I told you seeing pictures and video couldn't compare to seeing it for real."
Magneto could only agree with her. He had seen so much footage of this city, yet nothing could ever hope to convey its sheer majesty.
"You should see it during the day, the way the sun hits it, it's even better, though dusk isn't bad either." Mystique added as she too took in the view.
Magneto took a slow, measured step down the ramp of the jet, his polished black boots sinking slightly into the soft, dew-damp grass of the field outside Camelot.
The two mutants began their slow, measured walk towards the distant gates of Camelot, their long, purposeful strides carrying them through the tall, windswept grass.
At this time of the day, there weren't that many people around, though there were enough that Magneto was soon spotted. After all, a few people walked around with helmets and capes.
Though honestly, Camelot might be the one place where it wasn't unheard of.
Still, within minutes of him reaching the gate and stepping foot onto the paved stone roads of the white city, the world already knew about it.
Twitter was flooded with pictures of the two of them walking side by side through the gate, countless small video clips of him stopping to admire the beauty of the place, almost like he was just another tourist.
Mutant watchdogs around the world were starting to panic, while the partnership between the Brotherhood and Albion was public knowledge, everyone was still worried if the relationship might change.
Would it be more than a mutant refuge? Would Magneto himself settle down in the kingdom of the red dragon?
Or… was he there for the power of a god?
What would happen if he gained that power? Would the world be doomed to be under his mutant rule?
Panic-stricken phone calls ran out to alert the decision makers as Magneto and Mystique slowly made their way to the statue of the young king, and the famous hammer resting on the just as famous stone.
Finally, they reached the plaza, and Magneto laid his eyes on the statue. At the base of the pedestal, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the setting sun, rested Mjolnir, the hammer of the gods.
There was still a small queue of people lined up to try it, no more than a dozen, and Magneto didn't even hesitate to take his place at the end.
In this city alone, he would play by the rules because they were fair and equal to all, humans, mutants, and apparently, gods themselves.
Mystique, too, couldn't help her own curiosity and took her spot right behind him. Just on the off chance that he wouldn't be able to claim the hammer.
One by one, the people in front tried and failed, none able to move the hammer even a bit, not one person worthy of the power of Thor.
And finally, it was his time to try.
"This is it," he murmured, his voice low, thoughtful, his sharp eyes never leaving the hammer before him. "The power of a god, the strength of a legend, the might of a king… all contained within a single weapon."
Mystique stepped up beside him, her exotic, yellow eyes flicking to the hammer, her expression cool, almost amused. "You really think you can lift it?" she asked, her tone light, teasing. "That you're worthy?"
Magneto's sharp eyes flicked to her, his lips curling into a small, confident smile. "Perhaps," he replied, his tone calm, measured. "Perhaps not. But I have faced worse trials, overcome greater challenges. And if this weapon truly does hold the power they say it does, then it is worth the risk."
He took a deep breath, held out his hand, focused his magnetic power on the hammer, and willed it to raise.
The hammer did not shift at all, so he kept increasing his output, quickly moving far past what an object of that weight should require.
And still, it did not move.
Yet, he didn't let it bother him; he had expected a challenge, and he would deliver.
Another hand was raised, his eyes remained locked on the hammer, as he flexed both his arms and his mutation, and he pulled!
The force is enough to lift a building, to rip a submarine from the grip of the ocean. The power to lift an entire bridge, all focused on that tiny hammer. "Arrrhh," He grunted as he struggled, summoning every bit of power he could. Sweat was running down his forehead.
And still… it did not shift at all, no matter how much power, the hammer refused to yield.
"Do not be disappointed, Lord of metal, for trying to lift that hammer… well, you would likely have more luck trying to lift this entire city." A slightly amused female voice came from the side.
Magneto barely managed to shift his gaze off the hammer towards the voice, before another sounded, this one familiar.
"Your majesty!" the voice of Mystique exclaimed with a gasp.