The door knocks.
“Come in,” Wanda calls out hoarsely, then cringes at how shrill her voice is. As hastily as she can, she clears her face of any residue tears.
Her visitor steps in gingerly, ridiculously large in her tiny room. She stiffens. She’s acquainted herself with most of the avengers by now, but she has made an avid point to avoid the enormous god of thunder. He intimidates her, even more than Natasha and Stark. And he brings back…memories.
He seems to know it too. He clears his throat, eyes wandering towards the wall behind her. “Wanda,” he says with the polite courtesy of a prince in a situation he does not particularly want to be in.
“Thor,” she answers with equal frigidity.
“I’ve just come to collect a few of my things.”
That’s not surprising. This was his room before it was hers, after all. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Today I return to Asgard.”
Ah. Of course. His hometown planet. “Don’t mind me then.”
He nods at her and moves to the closet. It’s uncomfortably silent. Wanda fiddles with her sleeves, wishing for the quiet solitude she’d had just a moment before. There’s a thump and a yelp and Thor emerges, dusty, arms full of what looks like two capes, a journal, a wooden shield the size of her own head, and half a roasted pig.
“So that’s what that smell was,” she muses.
“My apologies,” Thor says sheepishly. “I’d forgotten all about these. I will be, as you mortals say, ‘out of your hairs now.’”
Wanda snorts. Thor visibly relaxes, turning to fully face her for the first time. Then he frowns. “Wanda, are you alright?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Your face.” He motions towards his own, and she flushes. “Have you been crying? No one has seen you all day, I was just wondering–”
“Well don’t,” she snaps. Their little moment is over. “Why does it matter? You have your things, you can leave now.”
Wanda immediately wants to slap herself. For a second she thinks Thor is going to fry her like his pig. But he just looks at her, an unreadable expression on his face. “It’s been a week,” he says quietly.
She looks away, picking at her palms. For some reason his face falls further. “Wanda. I am neither our Steve or Natasha, but if you ever want to speak on such–what I mean to say is, I understand–”
“You do not.” Red fills Wanda’s eyes like tears. “Understand what it’s like. He was a part of me, all I had left. I need him. I have always needed him. The rest of my family, my home. And now, and now–”
She barks out an ugly sob. “I have nothing left. You.” Thor flinches at the amount of accusation in her voice. “You destroyed my country. It’s because of your avengers I have nowhere else to go. I never wanted to be a fighter. I never wanted–I just want–”
She buries her face in her hands. “Please leave.”
She doesn’t let out a breath until the door shuts with a thump. She wants to vomit. She wants Pietro back, his hands on her shoulders, his lips against her temple promising things they both know they can’t have.
She wonders once again how she can go on for the rest of her life being only half alive.
*
She’s doing her best to shuffle a deck of cards mid-air when the earth begins to shake and the air is filled with color. She screams–can anyone blame her? This is how everything began to go wrong for her. But today there is no danger. The avengers perk up at the noise and lean out the windows, knowing looks on their faces. They leave the building excitedly to greet Thor, who stands on the grass, golden and gleaming, a smile on his face. “My friends!” he booms, almost knocking over Steve with the force of his friendly tackle. Wanda resists the urge to run.
“I apologize for my late return,” he says, arms full of a laughing Natasha. “Asgard has been in disarray ever since the attack of the dark elves, they have needed my presence for rebuilding.”
“Take all the time you need, buddy,” Tony says. “Though I have wanted to talk to you for a while. Do you think, and hear me out, maybe you could do your little magic guy landing on someone else’s lawn next time? Not that I don’t love you with all my heart, it’s just you know how Pepper gets when I have to tell her the lawn’s been fucked up again for the millionth time–”
“Really? I thought the symbol was quite artful. Adds in a bit of intergalactic touch, a bit more flavor, less humdrum, if you will?”
“Ok, A, gross, don’t you ever say humdrum in my presence ever again, and B, I’m the one funding this entire building, so I really don’t see your opinion as anything but irrelevant in this situation–” Thor laughs, grabbing Tony in a headlock that looks playfully deadly. “Ow. Ok. Yeah, good to have you back, buddy.”
Wanda feels as she always does when the team engages in casual affection like this. They may have accepted them into their home, letting her eat, sleep, and live in their midst, but she is still an outsider. She doesn’t know what else she’d expected. She’d tried to kill them after all. She hasn’t had the opportunity of making friends for a very long time and can’t help but fear that she has been out of the practice of it for too long.
They make eye contact over the flurry of excitement. Too late to look away. She tries for a smile. It’s pathetic compared to Thor’s answering beam, but she thinks, hopes, something mends between them.
Later that day, with the team in the throes of late night drinking, story-telling, and laughter, Wanda makes her escape the quiet living room. Unfortunately, she’s not alone.
“Wanda,” Thor says. He’s leaning against the wall, loose and relaxed in casual sweatpants and a hoodie. Wearing typical human clothes, he almost looks normal. Like someone she’d see at a community college or walking down the street.
“Thor,” Wanda answers, reminded humorlessly of their encounter in her room. “How’s space?”
“Space is good. A little chaotic, but nothing too out of the ordinary.” He hesitates, reaching for something in his pocket. “I brought you something.”
Wanda blanches. “Me?”
“For your magic. I am no expert but I can tell that yours is a bit, ah, underdeveloped. It’s hard to control a power like that.” He hands her a book with strange runes on it. “This is a spellbook, one of my mother’s. She is one of the most talented mages in the realms. Perhaps it will aid you.”
Wanda stares at the thing in her hands. It’s old, leather bound and embroidered with real gold. Looks expensive as hell. And it belonged to the queen. Of Asgard. Thor’s own mother. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. Take it as an apology for my words against you last time we encountered.” He runs his hand through his long hair. “I had no right to pry about business that was not my own. It was out of line. It seems that every day I am still learning to find humility.”
“No, don’t say that.” Wanda’s face heats. “It was my fault. I was being a…” the English word escapes her mind. “...well, I shouldn’t have snapped like that at you. You didn’t mean to be rude.” she pauses, guilt grinding in her stomach. “Thank you. So much.”
Thor’s answering smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes. He considers the drink in his hand, swishing the amber liquid around in its glass. “I had a brother,” he says quietly.
Wanda remembers. The invasion of New York in 2012; a dark-haired man, the second prince of Asgard. His scepter gave her her power. She doesn’t remember his name. Something strange–was it Loki?
Thor continues. “He was there when Asgard was attacked. He helped me in my mission to defeat the elves. He saved me. Sacrificed his life for mine. I held his body as he bled out.” He takes a sip, closing his eyes. “I was not good enough to him. He must’ve died thinking I despised him when that could not be further from the truth. Not a day goes by when I don't…”
His hand goes to his hair, twisting absentmindedly at the dark strand braided into his own golden locks.
“I didn’t know,” Wanda whispers.
“Not many do. I love our friends but I do not think I could bear it if they celebrated my brother’s death. I have only told Bruce. And you.” His voice falters at the last bit. Something terrifying like clarity lights up his eyes. “I should not have bothered you with this,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to compare our griefs. He was your twin. Mine was our enemy.”
Wanda reaches out a hand hesitantly, letting it fall on his arm. She can feel the magic humming beneath his skin, loud and raw, but controlled. “He was your family,” she inclines her head jerkily. “And no circumstance could ever erase that pain.”
Thor looks down at her gently. She feels so small under his stare, but not in a bad way. “You remind me of him. His magic. And his mannerisms.”
She cocks her head to the side. “Is that so?”
“Now that was exactly like him. Your impertinent lip–”
“Hey!”
“--the subconscious way you glare at everyone like you wish to orchestrate our violent deaths.” She yanks his hair with a flick of her wrist. “That too! That exact move, he always tugged my hair when he was cross with me.”
She’s laughing. Harder than she has in weeks, maybe months, and it almost hurts with unfamiliarity. He smiles at her, chuckling himself, quiet affection in the way he tilts his head to match her own.
Hours pass, and Thor lets Wanda try some of his fancy Asgardian mead. It’s poisonously sweet and feels like swallowing a mouthful of melted butter. She’s out after three tries, caught in the throes of drink and thoughts she can’t express.
“I’m no good at this,” she mumbles. She’s lying on the couch, on her side. Her head feels like it’s balancing on the handle of a broomstick; Big, heavy, and useless.
“Good at what?” Thor muses, empty jugs littered around his feet like trophies.
“Friends. Being part of a group. I don’t know.” She giggles. Then hiccups as her eyes gain a misty sheen to them. “It was always just Pietro and me. Me and Pietro.” That’s not grammatically correct. Oh well. “I think being alone would be easier than being around these people. Oops.” Her hand flies to her mouth, but Thor shakes his head.
“No, I understand. And I know what you mean. I am by no means anti social but sometimes I just wish everything was quiet.” Glass crashes in the next room over, and someone roars in obnoxious laughter. “Stark is not quiet.”
Wanda agrees. The lights flicker above her, an ugly yellow. She blinks. Blue. blinks again. Green. “I could feel him when he died,” she slurs. Blinks. Pink. “We had…a connection. Through the stone, I think. I could read his thoughts like my own, sense his feelings, feel his hurts. I felt it in my own body when he was shot.” Thor hums nonsensically. “Sometimes I think I can still feel him. When I’m dreaming. It’s as real as staring him in the face. But then I wake up and it’s just. A hole.”
She’s starting to tremble. Blink. Turquoise. Blink. Silver. Silver as his hair, his eyes, his smile.
“You’re a good listener,” she declares stupidly in Thor’s general direction.
“Thank you, lady witch.”
Wanda giggles. Lady witch. What a silly nickname. She opens her mouth to call Thor something equally silly in return, maybe blondie, or princess, or big stupid man–
And vomits all over Tony’s silk persian rugs.
*
As the days pass, Wanda realizes that Vision is kind to her. He makes her food even though there’s not enough seasoning and the meat is cooked wrong. He takes her on walks through the parks of New York and laughs at whatever she does. And he gets her dresses and coats when the weather gets cold.
He tells her red is her color.
Wanda has never really had time for romance. The thought of such a thing just didn’t occur to her as possible. The only man she ever really associated herself with was Pietro, and he was notoriously nasty to any member of the male gender who crossed their path. But here, with Vision, who is so very sweet to her, she doesn’t feel terribly against the prospect.
On the first day of December, he kisses her on the lips.
Her heart is so full she explodes the lamp they’re standing under.
Something begins to change in the crisp winter air. Lights, red and green, start popping up everywhere. She celebrated the holidays with her family back in Sokovia, but they were never such a big occasion as this. Stores all around the city don little elf hats and candy canes. There are songs. Gifts. She’s awoken in the middle of the night by Clint’s broad tenor howling the lyrics of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer at her in the vents.
“Americans,” Natasha grumbles at her when Tony sets up an 8 foot tall glow in the dark snowman in the living room. She laughs, partly at the jest, partly at the delight of their enormous new piece of decor.
Against her better judgment, she is utterly enthralled by the season. So one day, when she wakes up to a white, fluffy world one cold morning, she doesn’t waste a second before throwing herself outside the door.
Snow is a second home to her. While the other avengers shiver and chatter, she rolls in the stuff, buries her face in it, laughs like a little girl when the flakes fall on her face, kissing her cheeks pink. Clint decides to sneak up behind her and puts a handful of snow down her shirt.
Big mistake. She magics up a snowball twice his height and tosses it at his head.
The fight is on.
They’re all laughing and dripping by the time it’s over. Wanda collapses in a heap on the ground. Vision floats over her. His shadow envelopes her entire body. She reaches for him, and he lets her wrap her icy arms around her torso. Immediately his metal begins to heat up, and she shudders, huddling closer to his warmth.
“You’re a lifesaver Vis,” she chatters into his sweater.
“Well that was the main objective of my existence,” he replies cheekily. Stupid robot. She laughs through their kiss.
A car honks in the distance. Wanda looks up, startled, to see a small truck plowing through the snow. A familiar face pokes out through the passenger window. “Friends!” a booming voice calls, getting unnervingly louder as it approaches closer and closer.
The truck comes to a stop a few feet from the front yard, defeated at last. Thor bounds out, gleaming as golden as ever. He’s wearing an atrocious sweater, reds and greens and blues, tiny bells clinging to the cotton balls swaying precariously on the pockets. He looks like if a firework had a baby with a christmas tree. The mousy form of Jane Foster follows close behind, giving a sheepish wave. She’s wearing an identical one.
Steve is the first to reach Thor, slapping a hand on his bicep. “Thor! Good to see you.”
“And you as well captain. Wonderful weather we are having, is it not?”
Steve trembles in his Grinch-themed pajamas, the droplets on his chin already freezing into tiny icicles. “Yeah. Just peachy.”
“Digging the getup, Point Break.” Tony whistles. “Your lady put you up to this? She’s a genius.” He winks at Jane, who blushes.
Nat waddles up, swaddled in a mountain of blankets. “What brings you here Big Guy? Thought you were busy up at your dad’s place.”
“I was, until my father told me to take a break. I’ve been with Jane for the week. But with your Midgardian holidays coming up so soon I thought I’d drop by, take a visit. If that’s alright with you.”
“Did you even have to ask? Come on in man, I’ve put in, like, six new rooms since we last saw you, we’re getting new recruits like every other week. Vultures, I’m telling ya, they’re fucking vultures, I never should’ve put up that brochure–”
Wanda gives a little wave. But Thor is not even looking at her, staring instead at Vision, who is still thoroughly on top of her. She jerks away, suddenly feeling very embarrassed.
He raises an eyebrow. “Wanda.”
“Thor.”
An evil grin spreads across his face. “Wanda.”
Her face is on fire. She bunches up her sopping skirts, stomping back into the house, leaving Vision’s bewildered questions and Thor’s roaring laughter behind her.
Dinner is pizza, and everyone sits around the fireplace passing around a huge pot of cocoa. Sam tells them stories of his new idiot recruits as Steve shakes his head and Clint screams with laughter. Tony blathers about his brand new security technology to anyone who will listen (nobody), and Nat is trying to teach Bruce how to do a backflip in the corner, much to everyone’s amusement.
“Sooo.” Thor sidles up next to Wanda. She almost spits out her cider. “You and the Vision, eh?”
“It’s none of your business. And he’s not ‘the’ Vision, he’s just Vision.”
Thor holds up his hands in surrender. “You’ll find no judgment from me. On Asgard our mating rituals can be quite brutal. There was this one time my brother–”
His voice falters. Wanda quickly continues, “Well I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal about it. No one on the team minds. And we’re both consenting adults.”
“Is he though? It’s hardly even been a year since he was created.”
Wanda pauses. Frowns. Vision materializes next to them. Thor jumps so hard he spills boiling tea all over his lap.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asks innocently as Thor yelps and curses.
“Not at all. I was just telling Thor here about our relationship. He’s being an ass.”
Thor sputters indignantly. “Am not! I’m being extremely supportive. I’m sure you two are very happy together. A witch and a six month year old android. That’s a lovely pair, very healthy, nothing out of the ordinary at all.”
“I’m going to kill you, Thor.”
“You know, it was my lightning that brought him to life. I could technically be considered his father–”
“Shut up!”
He reaches out to Vision dramatically. “My seed. Leaving the nest so early, your forefathers would be proud–”
The rag he’s been using to sop up the mess in his lap bursts in a flash of red, drenching him again. She cackles like a gremlin as he leaps up with an enraged roar.
Thor finds her on the balcony at midnight. “Aren’t you cold?” he asks. She’s wearing nothing but a thin cardigan and slippers. She shrugs.
“Not especially. It snowed all the time in Sokovia. I’m used to it.”
They watch the city below in silence. Cars along the busy streets, the delighted shrieks of little children on ice rinks and sleds, the laughter of shoppers and tinkling of bells.
“Humanity.” Thor chuckles. “I will ever grow tired of watching them. What a delightful species.”
Wanda gives a noncommittal noise. What else is she supposed to say to the being who will outlive every single person on this planet? Her life is so weird.
“That was an impressive feat of magic earlier. Wringing out a cloth. Most wouldn’t see it as much, but I know the skill it takes for it.”
“Oh. Yeah. I’ve been practicing with that book you got me. Very helpful.”
“Good. That’s good. And that reminds me–”
Wanda perks up like a puppy. Thor laughs at her enthusiasm. He pulls out a textbook, larger than the first. “This is supposed to help with illusions. My mother says it is excellent for beginner witches wishing to advance on their spellwork.”
Wanda digs in eagerly. The pages are brown and rich, hundreds if not thousands of years old. “Thank you.” then a little guiltily, “I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s alright, I wasn’t expecting much.” He chuckles. “Perhaps in return you could get the stain you so kindly put on my sweater out.”
Wanda scrunches her nose. She swishes her hand dubiously. It turns inside out and turns a ghastly shade of yellow.
“Jane knit this for me,” he says sadly. She shrugs in apology.
They go back to her room where Thor tells her to sit on the bed so he can braid her hair. His fingers are surprisingly gentle against her scalp, weaving tiny strands with practiced dexterity.
“Pietro used to braid my hair,” Wanda says. The memory is soft in her heart. “He was terrible at it. Ripped it out by the roots every time.”
“Are you happier now Wanda?”
She considers the question. Happy is a strong word. Less emotional about it for sure, but she doesn’t think the heartbreak will ever go away. She’s not sure she wants it to. Because if it does…that means she’s moved on. That she doesn’t need him anymore. And she can’t imagine a thing like that ever happening.
She picks at her sleeves, wringing her hands. A nervous habit, one she’s had ever since magic grew in them and destroyed her life. “Yes,” she says at last. “I think…I think it’s getting better. But it still hurts.” Thor finishes the braid, slinging it over her neck and arranging it neatly on her shoulder. “I don’t think I can ever be normal again.”
“He would rest easy knowing you are at peace.”
“I would be at peace if he was here with me.” She looks at the crestfallenness on Thor’s face and buries her head in her hands. It’s too late for this. “I’m sorry. I’m being cranky, I should sleep.”
“I agree. The night is long.” He hops off the bed, admiring his handiwork. “You have beautiful hair, Wanda.”
“Thank you, Thor.”
“Does Vision make you happy?”
Wanda rolls her eyes, but there’s nothing teasing about his tone this time. “Yes. He does. I don’t know where I would be without him.” She rolls over, closing her eyes. “Good night, Thor.”
“Good night, little witch.”
She smiles into her pillows.
After Christmas, Thor is called back to Asgard through a vision by their gatekeeper. He tells them he’s been instructed to find the infinity stones, and he’s not to stop until he has them all.
Wanda doesn’t know what to do with this information. They’re not close. Some would barely consider them friends. But when Thor tells them his news, his brows drawn in quiet resignation, something in her chest drops to her stomach.
He hugs them all, her last. His arms are enormous and hard as rocks, but they wrap around her torso with practiced softness, pulling her to his warm chest. She’s not even tall enough to rest her chin on his shoulder. He says in her ear, “take care, little witch,” and then he’s off into the sky. She watches him go. Her brain tells her she won’t be seeing him for a while.
It turns out to be right.
She reads her new books. Learns how to fly, transfigure, and yes, get rid of stains. Soon she can hold things up to five times her weight. When she is in battle, her enemies look at her with fear. So do the civilians she’s trying to save.
Steve is in trouble, and she doesn’t think twice before grabbing the explosion with her magic. It takes everything she has to keep it together, and she hurls it into the sky before it can go off and kill any more of her friends.
Big mistake.
Things lead to another and she’s battling said friends in a parking lot. Fate kicks her in the ass, and she finally gets her chance to fight Tony Stark. He treats her like a child. She throws a car at him.
He locks her up in a torture prison miles under the ocean.
Steve breaks them out, and then she has other things to worry about. She uses her magic to change her hair color to red. Hides it out in shitty motels, and worst of all, loses her accent. She can’t stay away from Vision, so they communicate through letters and secret texts like lovesick teenagers.
It brings her back to her days of running from the law with her brother. They were young and stupid back then, but they knew their place in the world. Wanda can’t relate anymore. With more enemies than friends, a bounty on her head, and powers she can barely control, she looks in the mirror and sees someone who is not Wanda Maximoff, or even Wanda the avenger.
She misses the days when things weren’t so difficult.
And it works. She hates it for this, hates it so much sometimes she can barely breathe, but it works. If she can’t be loved, she can be hidden. If she can’t have family, at the very least she can have Vision. And that’s enough to get her by.
But of course, things can never stay simple.
Vision, the physical embodiment of the universe’s only mind stone itself, is injured. And it’ll be even worse than if something doesn’t change soon.
Wakanda is rich and beautiful, but Wanda has no time to appreciate it. Not while her world is attacked by monsters who seek to destroy her. The love of her life lies on a table, surrounded by screens and lights and doctors who she knows deep down will be too late. Her team struggles with creatures of the likes she’s only ever dreamed of down at the fields, enormous blades running them down like flies. They can’t stop it. They can’t stop it.
But she can.
Her books had told her that lifting heavy things were like lifting weights, and that just like a workout, you needed practice and perseverance in order to achieve your goals.
Chin up. Breathe in. Tighten your core. She reaches out with her magic and takes.
And just like that she’s an avenger again. Nat looks up at her from the dusty ground with pride and blood on her face. Okoye compliments her, and she blushes like a schoolgirl.
“Look out!”
There’s the screech of metal, the flashing of a blade, and suddenly the entire world explodes with light. When she can see again, a monster lies dead at her feet, smoking. He’s got a gun in his hand, pointed at her head.
A familiar figure lights down next to her. His long blond waves have been shorn, and something’s wrong with his eyes. “Have those textbooks taught you nothing, witch? Never turn your back to an enemy.”
Her heart pounds. “Thor.”
“Wanda.”
He’s holding an axe instead of his usual hammer. “I like the new accessory. Very macho.”
“Thank you! It’s custom made, very special. Weightier than mjolnir though.”
A sword flies at them out of nowhere, and she throws it to the ground with a twitch of her fingers, never looking away from Thor. “A lot has changed,” she says numbly. “I don’t–it’s all gone to shit. All of it. Again.”
Lightning flashes around Thor’s body, pulverizing every alien in a 5 yards radius. “I know.” He hasn’t aged a day in the years he’s been gone, but his gaze is ancient. The god is tired. “For me as well. Things have…not been well. But–”
“Christ, can we bring it back to the situation at hand?” Nat calls. She kicks a gunner in the crotch. “Save it for the afterparty!”
Thor shakes his head. His smile is back, the one that promises pain to all who oppose him. There’s the man she recognizes. “Right you are, Widow! Thanos will regret ever crossing the likes of us.” He touches Wanda’s arm, and his look softens. “We will talk after the battle. I swear it.”
New energy surges in her. She nods. Then he’s off, bellowing promises of eternal hellfire to anyone stupid enough to stay close enough to listen. She speeds off as well. She’s got an infinity stone to save.
Wanda realizes, with one hand holding back the murderer of the universe and the other blowing every inch of power she can muster in the head of the man who put her back together so many times, that it will never get better.
Perhaps she’d angered someone in her past life and now she’s being punished for it. Perhaps she deserves it. It’s her fault she’s in this situation after all, her fault for trusting Hydra, for trusting Tony Stark, for trusting herself to be able to save this.
The moment Vision had scooped her up in her arms that day everything went up in flames with Sokovia, she’d felt him. He was curious. He was powerful. With a touch to his body, she knew more about him than she ever knew about herself, and vise versa.
And now she feels it in her own bones as she destroys his mind. Her powers feel it too, the destruction of their forebear. Don’t, they scream as they plunge helplessly into the stone. Don’t, her own mind screams at her, sounding like her mother and her father, and Pietro alike, a never-ending wail of agony.
You must, Vision tells her from within. But he does not force her hand. No, it’s her own will that kills him.
This time, she gets to witness the death of the man she loves more than anything in the entire world. A rainbow of gold throws her onto her back, and she relishes the darkness that overtakes her.
Her mind is a mess of wool and splinters. She barely feels it when Thanos strikes her.
The mind stone is added to his gauntlet. He snaps, and the world dissolves. Yes, is her final thought. Today she has been treated with mercy.
*
Darkness and light. Light and darkness. The warmth is so good, so peaceful. There’s no need to wake. To be burdened with thought.
She sleeps.
*
But something pokes her.
*
She stumbles into existence, in a crowd equally as confused as her. She recognizes a few faces. The metal-armed man that Steve was so fond of. The king of Wakanda, befuddled but handling it with royal calm. What is happening?
A man gestures at the air, and golden rings appear. “Come,” he says. He’s grim-faced. “It’s time to finish this battle.
*
Her memories come back to her as she fights. Wakanda. Vision. Thanos.
The mind stone shattering into a million tiny pieces.
She sees Thanos, a big purple form standing in the distance. There’s a smile on his hideous face.
She gets to him before anyone else can steal him. This time, she has both of her hands.
*
The battle is over, and Tony Stark is dead.
She thinks of his bomb, the one that killed her parents. But she also thinks of the heated blanket he’d made for her during her earliest days of living with the avengers, the way he touched her shoulder, called her kiddo, told her terrible jokes.
When the funeral crowd disperses, she finds herself at the lake. She’s still numb from Vision, whose death for her occurred just over a day ago. 5 years. She’s missed 5 years of life. She can’t believe it.
Someone materializes next to her, and she doesn’t have to look to know who it is. “About time for our talk,” Thor says. Wanda hugs him. He stiffens momentarily, but returns it eventually.
He’s softer. She pulls back to look him in the face, but he doesn’t return it fully. His beard is longer. So is his hair.
“You smell like booze.”
“I know.” He takes a swig out of the cup in his hand. “Oh, and I lost an eye.” Referencing her squint of confusion, probably. “Yeah. Found a new one, courtesy of my dear friend Rocket. You’d love him, you probably saw him during the fight, he’s around here somewhere, I should introduce you–”
“Yeah, I think I saw him actually. The raccoon?”
“Rabbit. But yes, he’s quite hard to miss.”
Wanda opens her mouth, then closes it. Thor has lost an eye. Whatever. “Have you been to Asgard recently?” She asks. That seems like a safe enough subject.
Something shatters in his face. “Asgard was destroyed.”
“What?” The golden realm, the planet of the gods? It can’t be. “Destroyed? How?”
“My evil sister invaded it. I had to get rid of her somehow and protect my people. I had no choice.”
“But your father! Odin! Why didn’t he–”
“He died before her arrival.”
Her head spins. “When was this?”
“Before the snap. A handful of Aesir managed to escape the destruction of our planet, but then Thanos came and killed half. Then he snapped and that killed another half of that half, and that left–” He holds up his fingers, seeming to attempt a calculation before almost immediately giving up. He slumps in defeat. “Well. Not a lot. We’re in Norway now. You ought to visit sometime.”
“Thor…”
“Oh look at me. I’m describing this in such a dreadful manner. It's truly not so terrible. You know, many of the smaller civilizations were wiped out completely. Steve lost both Sam AND Bucky, I still had my people. And Valkyrie, she’s truly been a great help. Wanda,” he says almost conspiratorially, leaning forward. “Can I tell you something?”
Wanda’s lip trembles. “Anything.”
“Loki was alive the entire time.” He laughs at the look on her face. “He was never killed by the Kursed’s blade. He healed quickly and snuck back into Asgard, banished our father onto Midgard, and took over the kingdom’s responsibilities. He’s the one who sent me away to search for the infinity stones.
When Hela attacked, he helped drive her off. He saved our people. I thought it was a lie again, another betrayal, but he stayed. I needed him, and he stayed for me. He promised he would help us rebuild on Midgard. It was all I ever wanted. We were only a week's worth of jumps to our destination. We were so close. I had him back. I had–”
He blinks. Evidently there’s not enough drink in his cup to dull his awareness. “We were so close,” he mumbles.
Wanda can’t see through the tears in her eyes. His words unlock the emotions she’d hidden underneath blind rage, and now they flood her in mindless grief.
“His last action was to protect me,” Thor says. “He gave me a chance to save the universe at the cost of his own life, and I still failed. Sorry for that by the way.”
“It’s not your fault.” Vision smiling at her, his skin splitting but love so strong in his eyes that it drowns out everything else. In the end, his death, too, meant nothing. “He loved you. He loved you, and for him that’s all that mattered.”
Thor shakes his head. Wanda reaches out and gathers him in her arms. They don’t go around all the way, and he’s still miles taller than her. “It’s not your fault.” Tears run down her burning cheeks. He buries his face in her shoulder. “It wasn’t our fault, ok? They loved us.”
“I want him back.”
“Me too.” She’ll close her eyes a thousand times for the rest of her life, and all she’ll see is him. His face. His love. “Me too.”
Thor trembles in her grasp. Then he kisses the top of her head. “You’re a good friend, little witch.” His voice is broken. Wanda presses closer.
She thinks she will visit New Asgard at some point.