The Blood Phoenix: An X-Men: First Class Fanfiction
  • Reads 14,960
  • Votes 415
  • Parts 14
  • Time 1h 7m
  • Reads 14,960
  • Votes 415
  • Parts 14
  • Time 1h 7m
Complete, First published Dec 03, 2019
Auschwitz-Birkenau, Poland. 1944. 
Westchester, New York. 1944. 
Brooklyn, New York. 1960.

Erik Lehnsherr, his estranged daughter Adelaide Pearson-Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier all have something in common. Their mothers are either all but lost to them or dead. At least, that's what Erik and his daughter have in common - and have come to avenge. 
The three meet by chance... or so it seems.  
The mutant supremacist Sebastian Shaw has united the Hellfire Club, including powerful telepath Emma Frost, to start World War III with missiles placed in Cuba by the Soviets and the Americans. 

At the moment, Erik and his daughter want nothing more than to avenge their mothers. Both died by the hand of Sebastian Shaw and both want nothing more than to see the mutant leader buried six feet deep. 
Charles is drawn to the youthful, but angry Adelaide, and the two begin to develop a relationship. But her past, and the mission she has come for, calls to her. 
The inescapable bond, however violent, that she shares with her father, begs to take over, the need for revenge seeping into every bond that the young Adelaide Lehnsherr has. 

All of this has brought the father and daughter pair, as well as the young telepathic Oxford University graduate, to this very moment - where they are enabled to take on Sebastian Shaw and his minions. 
The first class has gathered... 
What will become of the X-Men?
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1962 - charles xavier

20 parts Complete

The year was 1962 when I met the man I would later call my husband. The man who sits at my bedside, holding my hand as I weakly gaze into the familiar blue eyes that captivated me many years ago... Far too many years than I would care to mention. "Charles?" My voice escapes my lips in a breathy hum, the downtrodden tones of approaching death threatening to distort his beautiful name. "Yes, my Love?" He replies with an expression of deep melancholy. "Do you remember when we met?" I inquire with a gentle smile painted upon my face, my wrinkled hand cradled gently in his own. "Of course I do, Darling," he soothes me, the cool metal of his wedding band brushing against my skin. "I never stop remembering."