"The Illuminati."
The word left my lips like a stone dropped into still water—
and the ripples hit every corner of the room.
The President blinked, confused.
Xavier's eyes widened a fraction.
Fury froze mid-breath.
Tony was the first to speak.
"...Okay. I'm sure everyone knows about the Illuminati—eye of truth, controlling the world behind the scenes—but trust me, it's not real. I checked when I was a kid."
Reed nodded as well. "Indeed, it is an interesting theory, but I assure you, while there are powerful interest groups, the Illuminati itself isn't real."
"As expected, the smartest people in the world would know the most about something like that," Johnny said with a snort.
I merely nodded before I continued. "Indeed, there is no such thing… but there could be, and maybe there should be. A group, a council comprising the extraordinary, to lead the extraordinary."
The idea wasn't something I had really planned much, but I remembered it—a faint memory now, but still. A world that seemed to be far closer to a utopia than this one, one with the Illuminati in charge.
Where the smartest minds, the calmest minds, and the strongest fists all came together to bring humanity forward, towards peace.
They fought against Thanos. They beat him, and brought humanity into an age of tech splendor.
Ultron robots enforcing the peace.
Magic is public knowledge and celebrated.
Heroes were celebrated as they should.
And yes… the people were lied to as well.
It wasn't a perfect world, and I honestly doubted the sanity of the so-called smartest people, who got utterly ruined by one witch so badly.
It was honestly embarrassing.
They very much should have been able to win. There was no reason for them not to—if not for the fact that they almost did the whole cartoonish thing of attacking one at a time.
Though they were done dirty with the Scarlet Witch pulling out new abilities that were beyond broken.
To manipulate reality itself wasn't easy, but it also couldn't be described as hard.
Even magecraft could be said to do that.
However, to manipulate the reality of someone else? Such as removing their mouth with but a word?
Even gods would struggle to do that. I, for one, couldn't do something like that.
It wasn't as simple as sculpting flesh—to remove someone's mouth, or to turn someone into ribbons—that would require totally overwriting their very existence.
And the more important someone was, the heavier that would be.
A king who shaped countless lives for countless years would be countless times harder to manipulate than a random peasant.
Because you touched against all those lives and years, that weight added to the king's
existence.
What the Scarlet Witch had done… was frightening, to say the least, and impossible to believe.
That said, while the Illuminati might have failed to show off their combat power, that didn't mean they were useless.
Nor that the idea of such a group didn't have weight or meaning.
Merely that it clearly needed a bit of help to avoid such a pathetic fate.
As my thoughts went to the inspiration of my proposal, the idea itself was still slowly sinking in to the people in the room.
The President finally wet his lips. "I… I don't understand. You're suggesting a… shadow government?"
"No," I said simply.
"A council, not a hidden one—one sitting in the light, filled by the smartest, the strongest, those who have been chosen. They would speak for their people, lead them, guide them, and control them if needed," I corrected.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Tony raised both hands. "Okay, hold on. Let's pump the brakes. You're talking about assembling a super-team of thinkers and fighters to coordinate global defense, not… stage a coup, right?
"
Loki smirked. "Why not both?"
Clint muttered, "Not helping."
Reed stepped forward, rubbing his chin. "A council of the extraordinary… insulated from political pressure… But would it operate above national governments? Adjacent to them?"
Sue cut in sharply. "And accountable to who?"
"I still think we should work on the naming—the whole Illuminati thing got some pretty bad PR," Tony added.
Professor Xavier ignored the bickering and addressed me with calm precision.
"Arthuria… such a council would hold unimaginable influence. Its members would need not only strength, but moral clarity."
A soft, knowing hum left Loki's throat. "How quaint. He still believes morality guides power."
It was Loki's words that brought silence back to the room, because it reminded everyone of one important thing.
Power.
That was what controlled this room.
"I will not choose who sits there. I stand beyond mortality, and shouldn't reach my hand into such matters. I guide, I command, but the world beyond Albion isn't mine to rule."
My words calmed a few minds.
But I had no doubt many others thought me a hypocrite—because wasn't I reaching my hand into their affairs?
But this was far beyond their boring politics. This was an alien invasion and its aftermath, not something I would entrust to these people.
Fury would likely try his best to do well for the Avengers, but in the end, it wouldn't be enough.
Only by fully freeing them from politics could they act freely in the future.
This world, filled with mutants and even the Fantastic Four, would likely be far more troublesome than the MCU. So those willing to defend it had to be given the freedom to act.
"That's something at least," Fury scuffed under his breath.
"Something," Tony echoed. "Yeah. A maybe-coup with extra steps."
Natasha gave him a flat look. "Tony."
"What? I'm just saying—usually when a powerful monarch says 'I won't interfere' right after vaporizing someone, I get a little twitchy."
Clint raised a hand. "For the record? Same."
Mordred rolled her eyes. "Mortals complain when you kill threats. Mortals complain when you don't kill threats. Make up your minds."
"Please don't encourage her," Bruce muttered.
Sue Storm stepped forward, steady but pale. "If such a council exists… who exactly would serve on it?"
I tilted my head, but before I answered, Loki stepped in with a delighted smile.
"Why, the extraordinary, of course. Those worthy of shaping destiny. Those with power, brilliance, or purpose… not those who earned their stations through wealth, nepotism, or political scavenging."
Several senators recoiled like he'd slapped them.
Reed cleared his throat. "Qualifications aside… such a council would need structure. Framework. Checks and balances."
"Ugh," Johnny groaned. "Nerd talk."
Ben jabbed a rocky elbow into his side. "Can it, matchstick. He's right."
Xavier nodded politely toward Reed. "A council must not become an unchallenged authority. It must earn trust, not seize it."
Loki scoffed. "Trust is a child's toy. Power is what endures."
Thor's eyes narrowed. He didn't know much about politics, but something about what Loki said rubbed him the wrong way.
Xavier looked at me once more. "Your Majesty," he addressed me carefully, "if you intend to propose the formation of such a council, you must understand what you are unleashing."
I raised a brow. "Enlighten me."
Xavier's eyes softened—with warning, not condescension.
"A council of giants will cast long shadows. Nations will fear it. Armies will resent it. Politicians will attempt to undermine it. Some groups will worship it. Others will seek to destroy it. And the common people… might forget that they ever had a voice."
"And do they have a voice now?" I asked simply. "Tell me, what voice did the people of New York have when a nuclear bomb was sent their way?"
The room fell silent.
Because none could deny my words.
"When I took over Albion, the people didn't resist… Why? Because they knew. Because they realized they had long since lost it."
Every senator, every advisor, every general—
All of them suddenly looked much smaller.
Xavier bowed his head slightly. "A fair point. But still—"
I didn't let him finish.
"They traded a broken system for stability. They traded corruption for competence. They traded fear for hope."
My voice sharpened.
"Because the voices they were told belonged to them… never did."
The President shifted in his seat, visibly shrinking.
Sue Storm folded her arms, grimacing.
Reed's brows knitted, analytical wheels turning.
Tony sighed. "Okay, but Albion isn't America. Over here, if someone sneezes too loudly, three committees form to pass a resolution about it."
Natasha added dryly, "And two of them are corrupt."
Clint nodded. "And the third is incompetent."
"That's democracy," Fury grunted.
"No," Loki cut in, smirking, "that is theater."
Thor frowned. "Brother, do not insult their system."
"Why not? They insult it daily," Loki gestured at the room. "They tear apart their own nation for scraps of power. They threaten one another with bombs. They send assassins at their rivals behind closed doors. It is barbarism wearing a flag."
Thor clenched his jaw, but had no rebuttal.
Xavier made a gentle motion with his hand.
"Arthuria… the people of a nation must believe they matter."
"A lie," I stated simply.
"I know… but sometimes ignorance is bliss," Xavier answered sadly.
I knew he was smart—knew people far better than I ever could.
After all, I was a king overthrown by my own heir and lords because I failed to understand the human heart. And I was a cold goddess who once more had most of my knights turn against me because I failed to understand humanity.
To be a god made it difficult to see things from a human perspective, because at the end of the day, I wasn't human. And the humanity in me only took me so far.
"Unless you forever wish to live under Asgard's protection, you will need this. And if you wish to accept Asgard's protection to that level, you might as well disband the agreements allowing you self-governance and accept Loki as your lord and master."
"Indeed," Loki jumped in eagerly. "I would gladly accept Midgard's allegiance. I can already see some reforms I would do."
That was the fuse.
The people stirred.
"That won't be necessary, Lord Loki," Fury spoke quickly. "We are thankful for your help, but we wouldn't want to trouble Asgard over every little thing. I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say we wish for Earth to have the ability to defend itself."
Several senators straightened. Generals glanced at one another.
"We can defend ourselves," one of the Joint Chiefs managed. "With the right coordination, proper resources—"
"With less idiotic decision-making," Tony supplied.
"Tony," Natasha sighed.
"What? I'm supporting the 'defend ourselves' angle. Just… fewer nukes."
Steve stepped forward.
"Fury's right," he said. "We need a framework. Not just for America. For the world."
Fury exhaled slowly.
"Right," he said at last. "It's clear that, despite what we want, we need the Illuminati."
(End of chapter)
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