Albion, the kingdom of knights, of magic, of legend, and of mutants. It was indeed a land of many things, of many people, it was a land that was beginning to see peace and a bright future.
The land was ruled by the legendary King of Knights, Arthur Pendragon, who had returned from the dead to lead the realm once more.
The king, now known as Arthuria Pendragon, worked tirelessly for the good of her nation. The people rarely saw the king; in fact, they had never seen his face, only the mighty armor he always wore.
The king's true appearance was a topic of hot debate, both in the privacy of people's hos, and on national and international TV.
That very sa mysterious and noble king was right now relaxing in her grand bath.
-----
I sank deeper into the steaming water with a long exhale, the heat soaking into my bones like a blessing. The grand bath was still, save for the gentle ripple of movent and occasional splash from sowhere behind .
Columns of polished stone surrounded the great pool, and above, golden light filtered through enchanted panels, casting a soft glow on the water's surface.
Finally. A mont of peace.
I leaned back against the warm marble edge, letting my hair float around like liquid gold. Every part of ached, but in that dull, satisfying way that ca after great work well done. For once, I allowed myself the indulgence of rest.
That indulgence lasted exactly six seconds.
"Ha! Take that!" Mordred's voice cut through the tranquil air, followed by a tidal wave of water crashing against the far edge.
A second voice, higher and shriller, cried out, "I am dodging! You're just cheating with those stupid strong arms!"
I didn't even need to look. Mordred and Sprite, of course. I heard the sound of another splash, followed by uproarious laughter from Mordred, who had apparently declared war on all calm and stillness in the room.
This entire break had been Mordred's idea; she had gotten fed up with being busy all the ti and finally kicked both Agravain and Bedivere out of my office and then dragged into the bath.
I had just thought it would be a bit of bonding ti and rest. But after dumping in the changing room, telling to get the bath ready, which was unnecessary, the bath was magic after all.
She had just left , and then soon enough, she returned to the bath, with a whole crowd following her.
Apparently, she decided that a bathing party was the way to spend the day. I could only sigh at that, and ordered so of the maids to bring so refreshnts before allowing them to join if they desired.
Unsurprisingly, they had turned the offer down.
I couldn't bla them, Mordred had a way to turn the calm waters of the bath into sothing that could sink ships with how she moved around.
Among the guests she brought along was Sprite, the two of them were acting very much like siblings, always fighting, but also hanging out all the ti just to annoy one another.
At the edge of my vision, I caught Jessica Jones sitting on the subrged bench, arms crossed over her chest, trying very hard to pretend she didn't care. Her eyes, however, kept flicking to the others — to Mordred, to Gareth, to — and while she tried to hide it, I saw the way her posture curled inward. She wasn't used to this sort of company.
Jessica was by no ans an ugly woman, yet compared to imagination co to life, she did indeed fall short.
Though she wasn't the only one who felt out of place there, not by far.
Gareth, too, had sohow been dragged into this. And she was just totally adorable! Which is why I had been unable to resist dragging her into my lap as I petted her hair, and she was so tense and nervous.
But honestly, I just couldn't help it. It had been sothing Arthuria had wanted to do back in her ti, and now that I was Arthuria, all of them, well, I couldn't resist. I wasn't the sa reserved king as Saber.
Gareth sat stiffly in my lap, her cheeks nearly as red as the ribbon still tangled in her damp hair. She was trying very hard to look straight ahead, but her eyes kept darting back up at , then quickly away again. Her whole body radiated tension, like a knight awaiting judgnt.
"You may relax, dear Gareth," I murmured, gently trailing my fingers through her soft golden strands. "I assure you, I do not bite."
"N-No, of course not, Your Majesty!" she said quickly, her voice slightly too high. "It is simply... I was not expecting to be seated with you so... so directly..."
I chuckled softly. "If it truly discomforts you, you're free to move. But I'd much prefer you stayed."
She squeaked — a proper squeak — and then imdiately tried to compose herself, muttering sothing about duty and honor. I smiled and let her be. Her warmth was comforting, and in truth, I wished more of my knights could treat more like Mordred.
Mordred was now using Sprite as a makeshift flotation device, arms wrapped around the struggling Eternal as she tried to break free. It wasn't going well.
"Get off , you barbaric gorilla!" Sprite shrieked.
"You're the one who said you wanted to work on upper body strength!" Mordred barked back, dunking them both under with a wave of her arm.
There was a mont of sputtering, and then Sprite erged with a dramatic gasp, hair plastered to her face.
"One day," she growled, pointing a soaked finger at from across the pool, "I'm gonna get a real body, a tall one, with actual curves, and when I do, I'm taking your throne."
I arched a brow. "You were the one who insisted on waiting until Phastos had completed his work before moving forward with the upgrade. I believe your exact words were, 'I'm not going to rush perfection.'"
"Perfection should co faster," she grumbled, sinking lower into the water. "This is oppression."
While those two were making themselves right at ho, another person was feeling extra awkward.
Raven Darkhöl aka Mystique.
How and why Mordred decided to drag her into this I didn't know, and I didn't want to question it.
Still, Raven, in all her blue glory, was keeping to the far edge of the bath, clearing her throat. "Not to sound ungrateful, but... why am I here?"
Yeah, that's the question isn't it? I could only sigh, for I had no answer to give her, and Mordred was busy fighting a war with the tiny eternal.
"I could ask you the sa," I said, turning just enough to et Raven's sharp, skeptical eyes across the water. "But I'm choosing to enjoy the mystery."
She didn't laugh, but her lips twitched like they wanted to. "Well, I'm not exactly used to... royal bath parties."
"Neither am I," I admitted with a wry smile. "But you have to admit, it's pretty nice, isn't it?"
That earned a proper chuckle from her. A small one, but it was there. She relaxed just a little, settling deeper into the steaming water.
The Vailed Hand — the won who had once been Widows of the Red Room — were seated together not far from Raven, clustered close but no longer guarded.
They were slowly getting used to their new lives, in fact most of them seed to have accustod to it.
Or as much as one can get used to the insanity that is this crazy world.
One of them, a tall woman with short, dark hair and a barely-healed scar across her shoulder, cautiously leaned back against the smooth stone with a sigh that seed to surprise even her.
"This is… nicer than I expected," she murmured.
Another — the youngest among them, barely older than Mordred looked — gave a soft laugh as she wiggled her toes beneath the surface. "This bath is great, though… it's a bit… loud."
Everyone, myself included, couldn't help but look to the source of that noise. And indeed, they were both loud and made large waves wash over us and water splash everywhere.
One of the other Widows — no, I should stop calling them that, they were Vailed Hands now — raised her cup slightly toward from across the pool. "Your Majesty… thank you. For this. It's strange, but… in a good way."
I inclined my head, a quiet nod of acknowledgnt. "You are welco here. Always. Never forget that this is your ho."
This small group was a strange one for sure. But this was a strange world, and honestly, being strange would be the new normal soon enough.
-----
The lights of the Stark Expo glead like a miniature city—glossy and shining with promise. A celebration of technology, progress, and of course, Stark Industries. Tony had made sure every angle of the event scread legacy and brilliance.
Fireworks painted the sky, music pounded through the air, and caras flashed as he descended onto the stage in a gleaming blur of red and gold.
The Iron Man suit, the newest Mark XI Model, responded like it was reading his mind. Powered by a clean, arc-stabilized reactor, and enhanced with custom kinetic buffers, Stark moved like lightning wrapped in chro.
"Ladies and gentlen!" he shouted over the noise, lifting his arms like a ssiah of innovation. "I'm not saying I've fixed the future—okay, maybe I am. But tonight, you're gonna see what it looks like when one man decides to stop sitting in the passenger seat of progress."
The crowd roared.
That was the mont the lights dimd.
Not all at once, not a system failure. It was too precise. First the stage. Then the surrounding booths. Then the spotlight on Tony himself.
And then—the sound.
A sharp snap-hiss echoed across the expo grounds, cutting through the noise like a blade. People turned just in ti to see sothing bright and blue tear through a nearby exhibit tent. Sparks flew. Screams followed.
A man stepped into view, shirtless, scarred, and grinning like a mad prophet. Twin coils of white-hot plasma crackled from his chanical harness — lashes of energy that sliced through reinforced steel like butter.
"Stark!" he bellowed, voice soaked in vodka, rage, and vengeance. "You co from family of thieves. But I fix that. Tonight, legacy ends."
Utter chaos followed his words.
Truly, nothing made hot-blooded Aricans realize it was a real threat, then when it was delivered with a Russian accent.
Tony didn't waste ti. "JARVIS, full combat protocol. Now."
"Already running, sir."
The upgraded suit clicked into combat posture with seamless grace. Tony took off like a missile, flying straight at the threat.
Tony narrowed his eyes as he saw the plasma whip co down towards his suit. JARVIS instantly calculated the trajectory of the attack, and in response, he quickly raised his right arm.
The whip hit, but did little as the force of it wasn't enough to knock him off course. Instead, the whip rebounded off his tal suit.
And the next mont, Tony slamd into the man with force well beyond what one could et when run over by a truck.
Instantly, Tony and the attacker left the room and the building as Tony continued with the many through the large windows.
The room quickly cald down as the threat seed to disappear, and people grew unsure of what to do. Given that the outside might be more dangerous than the inside now.
-----
"We begin tonight with breaking news from Queens, New York, where a dramatic and deadly attack disrupted the ongoing Stark Expo just hours ago. Authorities have confird that the assailant, whose identity has not yet been officially released, died shortly after being removed from the scene by Tony Stark—better known to the world as Iron Man."
Footage shows cracked pavent, scorched debris, and a wide breach in one of the Expo's pavilion walls, smoke still rising.
"Witnesses report that the unknown attacker—described as male, shirtless, heavily scarred, and wielding high-tech plasma weaponry—launched a sudden and targeted assault on Stark himself, using what experts are calling a high tech whip."
A short clip plays: civilians ducking behind booths, cara phones raised, as a blur of red and gold streaks across the fra.
"Stark engaged the attacker imdiately, and within seconds, both n were seen crashing through the Expo's main display hall and out of sight. According to Stark Industries security, the attacker sustained lethal injuries during the encounter—reportedly from blunt-force trauma after being struck and carried through reinforced glass and concrete."
A freeze-fra shows damage to the side of the building, with ergency drones scanning the site.
"While speculation continues, officials stress that no civilians were seriously hard during the incident, and there are currently no indications of further danger. The NYPD and FBI are securing the area, and a statent from Stark Industries is expected shortly."
"Tonight's attack raises difficult questions about the security of public technology showcases, and just how far so individuals may go to challenge the legacy of Stark Industries."
She pauses. The screen shifts to a silhouette of the attacker—heavily pixelated and labeled "UNIDENTIFIED."
"Stay with us for continuing coverage as more details erge. For now, this is WNN Nightline. We return you to regular programming."
Alright, everyone is back in Calot and getting used to living there. And while we could once more go over having Jessica marvel at the amazing white city of hope. I figured that we might have had enough of that for a bit.
So instead, a bit of a bathing scene, showing that Mordred is collecting her Pokémon, I an, her exotic won, I an friends?...
And the attack on Stark, I decided that given Stark was cured and not desperate to work through his bucket list, he wouldn't be in Maroco. And Vanko wouldn't have that chance to attack.
Which delayed it, and made it happen at the Expo itself, as a replacent for Hamr's drone, since he couldn't make those without Vanko's help.
And as for how the attack ended? I thought about just having him shot dead on the spot. But figured it would still be better to have Stark do the deed, even if by accident. After all, having a man in a tal suit flying at you at high speed… isn't healthy at all.
So a worthless and stupid villain ended up dead in a mont, because not having a damn chestplate is really unhealthy.
And with the Expo, this is Fury's big week happening, so that ans a lot of stuff potentially happening all at once!
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