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There was something on Peter’s mind.
Erik could tell by the way the boy kept tapping his fingers against his knee -so anxious that they blurred into superspeed without him seeming to realise- as well as the way his eyes kept darting back and forth across the chess board, struggling to decide his next move.
It was strange to see Peter hesitate. They had been playing chess together for months now -a way to try and connect after so many decades apart- and never once had Peter spent more than two seconds looking at the board before making a move. His mind could move infinitely faster than his father’s, so it really wasn’t surprising that most of their games were spent waiting on Erik to move a piece. Sometimes he worried all the waiting would irritate Peter, but the speedster never complained, and he even encouraged rematches when he was inevitably bested by his far more experienced opponent.
Normally, Erik wouldn’t have questioned Peter’s odd behaviour. His son was a busy man after all- there were a plethora of things that could be plaguing his mind at any given moment. But unlike most times where Erik would invite Peter to join him across the board, this morning it had been Peter who suggested the game instead, only making Erik more curious as to the cause of his current distraction.
“Is there something you’d like to discuss, Pietro?”
The boy perked up in surprise -clearly not expecting the interruption- before his features immediately softened at the call of his name. Though he had never admitted it aloud, Erik knew how much Peter treasured his birthname, and hoped that hearing it aloud might soothe whatever worries had ensnared him so.
But as to be expected, the fondness was quickly veiled by mischief as Peter replied, “The only thing I want to discuss is your surrender, old man.”
The boy slid a bishop forward with a confident smirk, only for it to fall just as fast when his father snatched it up with his rook a heartbeat later.
“The only surrender today will be yours, my boy,” Erik said, adding Peter’s piece to the growing collection on the side of the table. “Check.”
With a petulant huff, Peter turned his attention back to the board, muttering “Show off…” under his breath as he did so.
And though it drew a bemused laugh out of the man, it didn’t take long for Erik to grow concerned once more as he noticed his son’s struggle across the table. “Pietro,” he tried again, which only earnt a distracted hum from the boy as he went to move a piece, then quickly retreated to find a new strategy.
Too lost in his thoughts. Too busy trying to ignore whatever was really on his mind.
Thankfully, Erik still had one card left up his sleeve.
“Son.”
In an instant, Peter’s nonsensical mutterings and anxious jitters stilled. Those dark eyes never left the board, but Erik knew he had captured his attention in full with that cherished title.
“Yeah?” the boy asked, feigning indifference.
Leaning forward with his arms against his knees, Erik pointed out gently “I can tell there’s something bothering you. Our games have never lasted more than ten minutes before, and yet we’re nearing twenty today.”
Peter’s lips pressed into a thin line, clearly displeased at how obvious his behaviour had been.
“Please, tell me what’s on your mind,” Erik urged with as much encouragement as he could muster in his voice. “I know I’m not as well versed as Charles with these sort of things- but you’re my son, and I want to hear anything you have to say.”
After a moment of hesitation, Peter’s gaze finally lifted to meet his father’s soothing stare, his mask of disinterest slowly falling away in place of surprise and apprehension and even a twinge of guilt. But when a warm smile quickly followed, Erik knew that it was love layered beneath each of them.
So taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, Peter finally answered his father’s concerns.
“I was thinking of changing my name.”
Erik blinked back, silent. Stunned. “Pardon?” he asked after a few beats had passed, certain he must have heard wrong.
“My name. I want to change it,” Peter repeated bluntly. It seemed his former reservations had all but evaporated now that he was focused on the right subject. It made Erik wonder how long he had actually been planning this conversation…
Brow furrowing, Erik couldn’t hide his confusion as he asked, “Why? There is nothing wrong with your name.”
“Yeah, but it could be better,” Peter smirked. The twinkle of mischief in his eyes should have relieved his father’s worries, but instead they only grew.
“Has someone been slandering your name?” Erik pressed, immediately fearing the worst.
“No dad,” Peter scoffed in amusement. “I’m not getting bullied, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Would you tell me if you were?” Erik asked defensively.
“Only if I wanted someone dead,” Peter teased, which managed to draw a weak smile out of Erik at the sound of that wondrous laughter.
So, trusting his son’s word, Erik returned his attention back to the original subject and asked, “Then why the sudden distaste for your name?”
Glancing over the board to avoid his father’s searching gaze, Peter answered softly “I don’t hate my name- I love it actually. I just think I need one that fits a little better.”
“But I love your name Peter,” Erik urged before reaching out to take the boy’s hand firmly within his own. And when Peter blinked back at him in surprise, concern was quick to soften into adoration as Erik added warmly, “My Pietro…”
For once Erik’s words had the desired effect as Peter’s eyes grew wide and glassy with awe, only to duck away when his cheeks dusted pink a moment later. Peter had never been great at taking compliments- always so quick to brush them aside or joke them away. Eventually, people just gave up trying, and Peter learnt not to expect such praise as time went on. It was something Erik endeavoured to fix whenever he had the chance to.
But clearing his throat, Peter squeezed his father’s hand gratefully and said, “Well, I’m glad you like it… because I’m not changing it.”
For the second time that day, Erik stared in stunned silence. “But you said-“
“I want to change my last name,” Peter clarified, his anxious foot tapping returning once more as he added, “And specifically… I wanna get it hyphenated…”
There were a lot of things Peter talked about that confused Erik -rock music, arcade games, an unhealthy obsession over fast food- but this time, Erik really felt out of his depth. Why would Peter ever want to change his surname? And what was he planning on hyphenating it with?
At first Erik’s mind jumped to his lost love, Magda. When they first met, he was a fugitive from the law and living under yet another false name. When they married, it didn’t seem fair to make her give up her family’s name in exchange for his fabricated one, and so Erik had taken on the Gurzsky title with pride. Naturally, Erik could only assume that his son had found himself in a similar position.
“Do you… uh- intend to… marry someone?” Erik asked with about as much grace as Peter had playing chess earlier.
The boy recoiled almost instantly. “What? No! Where’d you get that idea?”
“I thought that perhaps- if you were hyphenating your name- marriage might have been the cause,” Erik rushed to explain his clumsy reasoning.
“No, oh God no, I don’t even- that’s not even something I…” Taking a breath, Peter shook his head as if he were trying to clear his mind before saying “That’s a conversation for another time. The point is- I’m changing my name, and purely because I want to.”
Erik nodded his understanding, seeing how much this clearly meant to the boy. If this was truly what Peter wanted, he would not be the one to hinder him.
“And what would your new name be?” Erik finally thought to ask.
This time when Peter looked up, there was no mocking glint or confident gleam in those deep brown eyes. This time, there was fear. Pure and untampered. The sight alone was enough to make Erik’s powers take a death grip on every metal object in the room -an old instinct he had yet to fully be rid of- before he forced his nerves to still and focused on reassuring his son instead with a soothing squeeze of his hand.
That gentle touch seemed to be enough to draw the boy from his worries though as the trepidation shifted into a steely resolve.
“Pietro Maximoff-Lehnsherr.”
The breath was stolen from Erik’s lungs in an instant.
Did he just say…?
No, he couldn’t have-
But confirming his fears, Peter shifted nervously and said, “I mean- if you’d let me… I’d like to have your name…”
As if a fire was burning in his throat, Erik opened his mouth to exclaim that of course he could- of course Erik would want nothing more- only for doubt to flood in and extinguish his voice a heartbeat later. The Lehnsherr name had been home to nothing but loss and destruction. Innocent lives cut short, and the blood of all those Erik had killed to seek retribution. He was the sole survivor- the only one left to carry their name, and instead of preserving it, he had stained it with his hatred and despair. Nothing could free it now from the reputation Erik had marred it with- not even someone as good as Peter…
“You don’t want my name.”
The words came out colder than Erik intended, which he regretted as soon as Peter pulled his hand back to his chest as if they’d brushed against flames. “Why wouldn’t I?” He asked, confusion and hurt swirling in the depths of his eyes.
“Because I have ruined it,” Erik answered honestly. “The only thing the world associates with the name Lehnsherr is my destruction. My mistakes. And you are worth far more than that.”
Features hardening, Peter replied, “Well- I don’t care what the world thinks.”
“You should,” Erik shot back sharply. “Because if you take on that name Pietro, then my enemies become your enemies. Those who despise me will despise you also. You will become a target -or worse- be seen only through the lens of my wrongdoings. I cannot allow that- I will not allow it.”
“You think I haven’t thought about that?” Peter scoffed, glaring down at the unfinished chess board as he said firmly, “I know what the world thinks of you… I know the risks that come with that. And I’m telling you- I don’t care.”
“But why?” Erik asked, his voice wavering on a plea. A desperate attempt to understand why- why would his wonderful, heroic son want a name so broken and tarnished?
Why would Peter ever want to be linked to a monster like himself?
But raising his head to meet Erik’s gaze with fiery determination, Peter said boldly, “Because when I hear that name- when I think about you, I don’t see Magneto. I see my dad. The one who taught me how to play chess, and cooks the best pierogi I’ve ever tasted, and nearly brought the mansion down when I told him I was his son.”
Despite the sudden sting in his eyes, Erik found himself chuckling at the memory, which caused Peter to warm with a smile of his own.
“I think about the time Mystique called us ‘Lehnsherr Losers’ when we beat her and Kurt in tennis,” the boy grinned, humour shifting into fondness as he added, “And I remember thinking how much fun that was… how I got to share it with you.”
Erik softened further at his son’s admission. He’d never considered it that way- that it could be something that connected them. United them.
“I remember seeing your name on my medical chart after that mission went wrong in Turkey…” Peter continued with a somber tone this time, his gaze shifting to the window as he recalled, “I lost too much blood, and Hank had to take some from you so I didn’t… well, you know…”
Unfortunately, Erik did know. He still remembered the crimson stains that had contrasted so fiercely against Peter’s pale skin the day they rushed him into the medical wing. Hands too cold. Body too still. It was a memory Erik had tried his best to lock away, much like the ones of gunfire silencing his mother’s voice forever or a forest that echoed with nothing but the screams of his fallen family.
Before Erik could get too lost in that shadowed corner of his mind though, Peter drew his father right back to the light by saying warmly, “When Hank was busy though, I stole a look at my chart and saw your name there- listed right above my own. It said: Erik Lehnsherr, father to Pietro Maximoff.”
Lifting his head, Erik and Peter locked gazes once more, and Erik realised that the very same love and affection he held for his son was shimmering back in Peter’s eyes for him.
“As soon as I saw it, I just knew I wanted your… our family name.”
Peter offered out his hand again and smiled when Erik didn’t hesitate to take it, the man clenching his jaw in a vain attempt to hold back the tears blazing in his eyes. He wanted to say something -anything to release the adoration he felt swirling inside his heart once more- but couldn’t find the words to give it justice.
“Please dad,” Peter finally implored. “I just wanna be your son- every part of me. Lehnsherr name and all.”
Choked with too many emotions to name, Erik could only release a shuddering breath as he took in the weight of his son’s words. Where the world only saw his name as a threat, Peter saw it as an opportunity. A chance to be closer to his father. A way to be connected as family. It was all Erik had ever wanted since learning Peter was his own, and yet he had pushed his son away the moment he tried to draw closer. How could he have been so foolish?
Sighing, Erik ran his thumb over the ridge of Peter’s knuckles and asked, “Oh Pietro, can you ever forgive me?”
“For what?” the boy asked, his head tilted in confusion like a puppy.
“For not being able to see past myself and my own fears. For forgetting that the Lehnsherr name does not just belong to me, but to you, and to all those who came before us,” Erik said with a bittersweet smile as he thought about the grandparents Peter never got to meet. “It is your birthright as much as it is mine, and I would be beyond honoured for you to have it.”
Like fireworks exploding across the night sky, Peter’s face lit up with untampered excitement and relief as he offered his father a grateful, teary smile. Again, Erik wondered how long the boy had been waiting to ask him for their name. How long had he spent worrying that he would be denied? A stab of guilt pierced through Erik’s chest knowing he had done the exact thing Peter had feared, but seeing the triumphant look of pride welling in those warm brown eyes now helped eased the shame to a degree.
“Thanks Dad- really,” Peter said as he squeezed Erik’s hand gently. “I know it seems like a weird thing to ask, but, uh… it means a lot to me.”
“There is nothing weird about it,” Erik assured with confidence. “You are my son, and I am incredibly proud of that. To share a name with you will be a gift- one I don’t deserve, but one I will treasure regardless.”
Ducking his head in a weak attempt to hide the blush creeping over his cheeks, Peter chuckled sheepishly and said, “Yeah, well… you’re not the only one who’s proud of their family, y’know?”
Erik didn’t think it were possible to be endeared any further than he already was, but hearing those words and knowing with certainty that Peter wanted to be his son made his resolve crumble like the walls of Jericho. And while doubts still lingered and the risks were still high, they paled in comparison to the blinding joy Erik felt as Peter looked up at him with an adoring smile. His son. In blood, and now also in name. Was there any father as lucky as he?
Clearly overloaded by their little heart to heart though, Peter pulled his hand away from Erik’s and awkwardly cleared his throat, gesturing towards the board as he teased, “Don’t think this means I’m gonna go easy on you, old man. Victory is still within my reach!”
“I wouldn’t be so certain, my boy,” Erik replied fondly as he leant back in his chair.
Father and son resumed their game as if nothing had happened, but with one final glance -one last smile- they knew that everything had changed.
~~~
As to be expected, Peter didn’t waste any time making his name official, and spent the rest of his evening in the kitchen meticulously filling out paperwork to claim his Lehnsherr title. There weren’t many things that could capture a speedster’s attention, but Erik knew the matter was serious when Peter purposefully refrained from using his superspeed as he worked. Each pen stroke was slow and deliberate, and the crease in Peter’s brow as he focused seemed unnatural on his normally carefree features.
“You don’t have to go to all this trouble Pietro,” Erik assured when he was handed yet another page to check for errors. As always, there were none. “The name will always be yours, regardless of what is written on paper.”
“I know… but it wouldn’t be the same,” Peter spoke softly, his eyes steeling with determination as he added, “I want to know that it’s mine… and I want everyone to know it too.”
Easing with a proud smile, Erik offered a nod of understanding and waited by his side until every last page was complete. With careful penmanship Peter wrote his new name for the very first time and solidified it with a signature to match. Erik didn’t miss the way his son’s hands trembled in excitement as he sealed the paperwork safely into an envelope, only to vanish a heartbeat later as he rushed to submit the application to the courts.
Unfortunately, humans ran at an excruciatingly slow pace in comparison to the speedster, and Peter was left without an answer for months on end. He never complained about the torturous wait to anybody aloud, but everyone in the mansion had caught him hovering around the mailbox like a vulture at one point or another. When Peter started to ambush the mailman before he’d even stepped past the school gates however, Charles and Erik unanimously agreed that a distraction was in order and sent the whole team on a vacation to the Bahamas.
Upon their return, Peter was finally met with the letter he’d been waiting for: a court hearing date for his legal name change. Turns out the courts had some… reservations about Peter taking on the surname of one of the most infamous ex-terrorists in the world. A fact that made Erik’s stomach churn with guilt, while Peter’s determination only grew fiercer.
All of the X-Men offered to join him on the day of the court hearing, but in the end Peter only wanted his father to stand by his side. Unlike the agonising months of waiting Peter had endured to get to that courtroom, the hearing itself was a short affair. They swore Peter in, confirmed his new name, and asked his reasoning for the change, to which he answered without a hint of doubt or uncertainly, “The Lehnsherr’s and Maximoff’s are my family- they made me who I am. I just want a name that shows that, your honour.”
A quick glance towards Erik at the back of the room was the only indication that the judge was even slightly shocked by Peter’s admission. If they held any animosity towards the mutant leader however, they were awfully good at hiding it, and simply turned their attention back to Peter with an almost curious tilt of their head.
“And you’re certain of this name change?” the judge asked.
Peter was practically beaming as he replied, “Never been more certain of anything in my life.”
A ghost of a smile passed over the judge’s face.
“Then allow me to be the first to congratulate you, Mr. Maximoff-Lehnsherr.”
And there it was again. That smile- that beautiful entrancing smile that held the joy of all those who had been lost too soon and a hundred new beginnings just waiting to take place. The smile that could only belong to his son, his wonderful Pietro. And when the boy glanced back at him with relief and joy radiating from his every feature, Erik knew the many months of waiting had been worth it for this moment alone.
The rest of the hearing seemed to rush by in a blur, and before either father or son had fully stepped out of the courtroom, they found themselves falling into a deep, secure embrace. Peter’s whole body trembled like a leaf -whether from shock or excitement or a mixture of both- but Erik’s hold was as fierce as it was loving, and for a moment, it was just them. No court. No bystanders. No one else but them. And suddenly, all the fears that had plagued Erik’s mind seemed so far away…
“They’ll all know you’re my boy now,” Erik murmured into the waves of Peter’s silver hair, his voice overflowing with pride instead of the fear that had consumed him months ago.
Pressing further into his father’s hold, Peter let out a choked laugh that resonated through each of Erik’s bones before settling safely into the crevices of his heart.
“Exactly the way it should be.”