Cinderella moment
The world ended fifteen years ago. Sort of.
Fifteen years ago, the American government built a robot army to destroy the growing anti-war resistance effort in Sokovia. But the arrogance of humankind always backfires, and the Ultron Initiative expanded its mission of destruction until they drove civilization to the brink of collapse.
After decades forced underground, mutant rebel Erik Lehnsherr came out of hiding to end the war. He could have done it earlier, he supposed, but he wanted to see if humanity could handle itself. It could not. The magnetic mutant, however, led a crushing victory.
At least, that’s what the history books say. Wanda’s not so sure.
As Magneto’s eldest daughter, Wanda spends a lot of time contemplating her father’s legacy—a legacy that she will, one day, inherit.
Seriously, she feels like she never hears the end of it as of late. Her twin brother, Pietro, is getting married in the spring, and their fathers are so excited about bringing another person into Krakoan leadership. Every time Wanda so much as mentions a friend or colleague, all of the eyebrows at the dinner table go up. She has been asked if she is dating her friend Natasha no fewer than fifteen times in the past two months, and she’s getting tired of it.
Besides, Wanda doesn’t really like the idea of a political marriage. She thinks she’ll make a good leader on her own and sort of resents the implication that she needs a spouse in order to be successful. (It helps, she thinks, that they seem a bit more anxious about Pietro leading alone than they do about the idea of Wanda leading alone. Still, though.)
Wanda’s step-dad Charles keeps saying that it’s not about whether or not she’s capable of leading alone, and more about making sure she has a support system. Hell, her dad even went so far as to say he’d be perfectly content with Wanda having a platonic marriage, so long as she had some guarantee of a stable home life. Wanda has a lot of rebuttals. None of them stick.
“C’mon, sis,” Pietro groans regularly. “It can be literally anyone. We don’t have any forbidden romances or whatever.”
“Precisely,” Charles nods. “We don’t participate in class warfare in Krakoa.”
“And it’s not like there are any more damn robots,” Magneto adds.
Wanda rolls her eyes because she always does that at dinners like this, but also because she doesn’t really like how her dad talks about robots.
But that’s not the big thing she’s thinking about. No, Wanda is thinking about the utterly enormous Liberation Day party this weekend. Wanda doesn’t really like meeting people. She finds it all a bit overwhelming and would much prefer small, quiet gatherings. But all of Krakoa is invited and it’ll be the talk of the city if Minister Magneto’s daughter isn’t in attendance, so…
***
Saturday rolls around and Wanda digs up her favorite gown. (Alright, “gown” is a very strong word, and she knows it—it’s a knee-length black dress that she only ever wears with four-inch platform boots, because she absolutely refuses to be shorter than Pietro.) She’s feeling like annoying her dads, so she pulls out the black lipstick and lets her hair fall in messy waves around her face. Sometimes, she’s a little sad that she’s 25-years-old and still trying to annoy her dads by dressing goth. Most of the time, though, it’s completely worth it just to see them struggle to keep their criticisms to themselves.
Wanda goes downstairs and makes her rounds in the courtyard, saying hello to all of the diplomats and the township representatives and every single baby, regardless of their political influence. It’s all so routine now, but it’s still overwhelming. She doesn’t like feeling watched, which is partially why she makes such a point of dressing a little weirdly. It at least gives her control over why people stare: she’s not just the Minister’s daughter; she’s the Minister’s goth daughter.
Anyway, after about the two-hundredth handshake and polite small talk session, Wanda grabs some food and leans against the wall in the corner. The sound of the music is overwhelming, even though she loves the band. It’s just all so… much. She can’t even hear herself chew, because the bass is too loud and, honestly, it’s shaking her brain around in her head a little and she’s, like, one-hundred-percent sure she’s going to get a splitting headache if she doesn’t take a break.
Wanda slips out through the garden door and exhales deeply. She loves this garden. It’s situated right on the edge of the mountain, so she can see the whole capital city below. It’s weird, sometimes, to think about how significantly her life has changed. Before the Ultron Initiative and the war and Krakoa, Wanda was certain her life was only ever going to be about survival. Her apartment building was bombed while she was inside of it. Her parents died, and Erik saved her and Pietro from the rubble. From then on, they were family, hiding from American soldiers and Hydra and the Sokovian cops in all sorts of alleys and temporary houses. This garden, with its iridescent flowers and the river at its heart, is a world she never imagined for herself. And it’s quiet, too.
Wanda turns to sit down and sees a man on her bench, rubbing his temples with both hands.
“Um,” Wanda says, hesitantly joining him on the bench. “Hello.”
“Oh,” he replies, looking up quickly with a look of surprise on his face. His hair is all tussled up as he fits his glasses back onto his nose. “Hello. I’m sorry. Am I allowed to be here? I’m admittedly not very familiar with the house, so I offer my sincerest apologies if this is for the family only.”
“It’s cool,” Wanda shrugs. “You look a bit disheveled.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” she chuckles. “I just meant that you seem like you need some quiet, too.”
“Yes,” he nods. “Quiet. I need the quiet, indeed.”
“Alright, then,” she hums, more or less amused by his odd phrasing. “So… what’s your name, trespasser?”
“Ah! I knew I wasn’t supposed to be here.”
“As I said, it’s cool.”
He tilts his head and furrows his brow, like he’s not entirely sure what she means. And Wanda isn’t usually one to entertain strangers, but he’s got pretty eyes, so, whatever.
“You can be here. Just gotta tell me your name.”
“Vision,” he replies, pulling his hands out of his pockets to offer one for her to shake. Wanda chuckles and obliges.
“Wanda,” she says.
“I know who you are,” Vision says. “I, um, as long as that’s not weird.”
“Everyone in Krakoa knows who I am. Honestly, it’d be weird if you didn’t. Nice, but weird.”
“Would you like me to pretend I don’t know who you are, then?”
This time, it’s Wanda who looks at him like he’s said something outrageous, because he has. It’s objectively a weird offer.
“Well, you said it’d be nice, so I thought… if you’d like, we could try that again and when you say your name I can just say, ‘lovely to meet you, Wanda’ instead of what I actually said.”
Wanda laughs and smiles at this strange, strange man.
“Wanda,” she repeats.
“Lovely to meet you, Wanda,” Vision replies. “What brings you to this party?”
“Everyone in Krakoa comes to the Liberation Day celebration,” she answers. “I’m simply doing my part. And how about yourself?”
“I could say the same.”
“Hm,” Wanda smiles. This is weird. This is lovely. “What might you be doing if you weren’t here?”
“Reading, most likely. I’m studying philosophy.”
“Really? Which university are you attending?”
“Oh, I’m, uh… visiting. From the Highlands.”
“So, that’s why I’ve never seen you at one of these before.”
“Perhaps you just don’t remember me.”
“Oh, I don’t tend to forget handsome strangers,” Wanda winks, because he is. Handsome, she means. Pretending not to know her makes him even more handsome, but she means it visually, too.
Vision blushes, she’s pretty sure. He takes a moment before he continues talking.
“And, er, what would you be doing if you weren’t here?”
“Painting,” she smiles. “And definitely not talking to somebody who ignores me calling them handsome.”
“I didn’t mean to offend, I only, um… you’re quite beautiful, yourself, and… that, um… well, you’re pretty enough to make me nervous, quite frankly.”
“Earnest,” she hums, though she’s certain she’s blushing. Hard. She doesn’t flirt much. She doesn’t usually even want to. “It’s cute.”
“Thank you, I think,” he replies. “Um… what do you enjoy painting?”
“This garden,” she nods.
“Oh, so you break into the royal castle often, then?”
Wanda laughs with her whole body, and it feels beautiful.
“Every day, really,” she says. “The woman who lives in the bedroom overlooking this garden is horrible at keeping her balcony door locked.”
Yeah, that’s objectively stupid to say to a stranger, but, like… if he wants to break into her bedroom, she’s pretty amenable to the idea.
“Are you sure you should be giving me such a clear map to break in?”
“Just to the one room.”
“Sounds like the most important one, if you ask me.”
Cool. Wanda’s gonna faint. Or, swoon, they call it. It feels like fainting, only better. Like if fainting wasn’t scary and if butterflies were gonna carry her away. Yeah. Like that.
“Vision,” Wanda says instead of swooning. “Would you like to come inside and dance with me?”
“Oh,” he replies, eyes wide and wonderful. “I cannot think of a more perfect activity, actually.”
“Mm, I think I could,” she adds with a quick lip bite. “But this will suffice for now. C’mon.”
Wanda grabs his hand and drags him back inside, and she thinks (hopes?) (knows) she sees him trip over his own feet to follow her. Wanda knows the pace of these events well. She twirls around beside him to some upbeat songs for a while, giggling at his attempts to make her laugh and smiling at his observations until the slow songs start. (She wonders, briefly, if Charles didn’t see her with somebody and prompt the band to slow things down. If he did, she might begrudgingly accept the meddling.)
With a soft smile and even softer eyes, Vision offers his hand and Wanda takes it, suddenly very glad she wore her big platforms, since she can hardly get her arm comfortably over his shoulder as is. Vision puts a hand on her waist and she leads, which is nice because he doesn’t try to take over when he doesn’t know precisely what to do.
“Have you taken lessons?”
“No,” Vision shakes his head. “You?”
“Yeah. Obviously.”
“I always thought those sorts of things were reserved for royalty,” he winks.
Wanda, who has never in her life found lying hot, closes the distance between them way more than is technically acceptable. She swears she hears his breath hitch.
“Vision?” Wanda asks, the side of her head pressed against his chest, listening for his heartbeat. “You can break into my room tonight, if you want. After midnight it should be safe to come in unseen.”
He swallows hard. “Are you suggesting…?”
“If you want. Or not. I just really liked being alone with you and I think I’d like to do it again.”
“I would love that,” Vision hums.
They stay there, swaying and pressed against one another until the tempo picks up again. Wanda leads him toward the side wall, thinking that he, too, seems far more comfortable people-watching.
Vision, as it turns out, is not interested in people-watching.
“The architecture of this parlor space is stunning,” he says instead, nodding up at the tall windows and winding columns. “Were those designed to look like trees?”
“Yup. My dad wanted it to have some sort of organic feel to it.”
“It’s lovely,” Vision hums. Wanda reaches for his hand. He grins. “The paintings, too. Did you do those?”
“Some of them,” she blushes.
“Show me your favorite?”
Wanda leads him to the opposite side of the room and around the corner, where her largest painting is hanging on the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. She doesn’t really think her paintings are anything spectacular, but god, Vision’s eyes look so soft and so awed that she thinks, maybe, she’s done something special.
“I’ve been trying to learn more about the plants we had before the war,” she explains, watching him examine the canvas. It’s a painting of a garden filled with plants that went extinct fifteen years ago. Wanda organized them carefully, mapping their canvas location onto where in the world they once lived. She’s proud of this one. It’s like a portal into a world that no longer exists.
“Wanda, this is… well, it’s a bit like seeing the sunrise for the first time.”
She’s been far more impulsive for far less in her life, and the man in front of her just said the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to her, so she tugs his hand and stands in front of him.
“Can I kiss you, Vision?”
Wanda watches him lose his words, but he’s smiling. Stammering, almost, and she thinks he’s maybe the most beautiful person she’s ever seen.
“Is that a yes?” Wanda asks, eyebrow raised.
Vision nods. Wanda pulls him down by the back of his neck and kisses him softly. It’s awkward, which is wonderful. He takes a moment to wrap his arms around her. She can’t stand on her tip toes due to the platform boots. His glasses jut against her forehead and, honestly, she wouldn’t want it any other way. Perfect kisses are for fairy tales. Wanda wants something far more grounded.
When she pulls away, Vision’s grinning in the silliest fucking way possible and she loves it. She wants to see him dazed a million times. This time, though, she laughs.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” Wanda giggles. “I think I smudged your glasses.”
“Quite alright,” Vision laughs, reaching around in his pocket and pulling out a cloth. Wanda wants to touch him more, so she reaches for it.
“Here, let me,” she whispers, taking the cloth from him with one hand and holding his head steady with the other.
“This is not really how you clean glasses.”
“Shh,” Wanda replies, raking her fingers through his hair as she wipes away the little smudge on his left lens. Vision’s eyes flutter shut.
“Good as new.”
“Better than new,” Vision counters.
“You’re charming,” she giggles, shoving his glasses cloth into her dress pocket. “And I’m holding this hostage so that you have an excuse to come see me again.”
“I don’t think I need an excuse for that.”
Beside her, Pietro coughs.
“Gross,” he mutters.
“Where the hell did you come from?”
“Super speed, sis,” he says. “And hello, strange man. Anyway — dad’s leaving the party, so you might wanna stop making out in front of his bedroom door.”
“Ugh, thanks,” Wanda rolls her eyes. “Vision, sorry about Pietro, but you should go… I don’t think you wanna meet my dad just yet.”
Vision nods quietly, but something about his expression looks alarmed. She can’t place what. She hasn’t known him long enough for that.
“Come back, though, okay?” Wanda whispers.
“Okay,” Vision replies, and then he slips away.
“Cute,” Pietro jabs her in the shoulder. “You haven’t made out with a stranger at one of these things since high school.”
“That you know of.”
“Mhm. Sure.”
“Fuck off.”
“Never,” he smiles.
“Fine,” Wanda rolls her eyes, looping her arm through his and walking back out into the emptying party, glowing just a little.
As forewarned, their dad wishes them goodnight and heads down the hall. Wanda and Pietro say farewell to the remaining guests until the parlor is empty, save for the two of them. Wanda magically cleans up.
“Neat party trick.”
“Will you please stop saying that every single time we have a party?”
“No,” Pietro grins. “Wanna tell me about the boy?”
“No,” Wanda grins back. “I am going up to my room.”
“Mhm. Sure.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“Don’t you have a fianceé to annoy?”
“I don’t annoy her. She appreciates my humor.”
“That makes one of us!”
“Sure,” he rolls his eyes.
“Love you,” Wanda adds, kicking him (lightly) in the shin before going upstairs. (He never moves out of her way when she does that, even though he could, because he’s a very good brother.)
“Love you!” Pietro calls after her.
Wanda rushes up the stairs and, admittedly, is half expecting to find Vision sitting on her balcony. The brief flare of disappointment washes away in the nervous anticipation for whatever the rest of the night brings them.