Wakanda’s sun warms Wanda more than she thought it would after her time on that prison Stark (I told you we shouldn’t trust him, Stark is a traitor, sister), but her fingers still tremble — for the trauma and for the power. She had forgotten of the way Hydra had spoken of her, about her powers. A true prodigy, the ultimate weapon. What could she not do? Indeed, what she could not do.
(Trust, sister. You cannot trust anyone else but me)
She had progressively gained her powers, outbursts of red lights as she would slowly learn of it. Now it came to her all at once and it is too much, too much, too—
(But not enough to save me)
Wanda threads her fingers on the fabric of her dress and closes her eyes. Breathes in and out, slowly. Meditation was the key before, but her mind is traitorous with this Pietro in it, whispering lies and danger to her, poisoning her memory of him.
(I was kind and I was brave but now I am dead. I am dead and you buried the body, your deft fingers dirty with blood and soil, just like Hydra wanted are you proud, Wanda?)
When she opens her eyes, Steve Rogers is in front of her, looking concerned.
He opens his mouth to ask, but she already knows what he will say. “I’ll be okay.” She says, her voice thick of her accent. It trembles a little. “I just need time—”
“Of course.” Steve Rogers says and she wonders when she will start thinking of him as just Steve, like everyone else.
(When you stop calling me Pietro or brother and I become a shadow of your soul, almost like your favorite poem)
Never, then, she answers herself and feels like laughing. Is she going insane?
(Have you ever been sane, sister? Or I was that too, together with your best part?)
“If you say.” Steve says and sits next to her, keeping a respectful distance between them. Were her parents alive, they would have loved him. The perfect husband, they would whisper, smiling.
Were they alive, she would have a poster of him in her bedroom and would sigh lovingly at his eyes and at his smile. Pietro would make fun of her but would appreciate her taste.
They always were so alike.
“It’s too much.” She confesses, needing to talk to someone. “The power. It came back all at once and I don’t think I can control it now.”
“Of course you can.” Steve Rogers whispers and takes her hand. “It’s yours after all.”
“Is it?” She asks out loud and surprises herself when she notices this. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.”
“What do you mean?”
Wanda smiles bitterly. “Sometimes it feels foreign. Sometimes it feels like it isn’t mine at all. Like a virus crawling inside my skin.”
(Keeping me alive)
“Wanda.” Steve Rogers says, voice full of concern. “Maybe you should talk to T’Challa about this.”
She smiles bitterly. “What is he going to do?”
“He knows a lot. Maybe he could help—”
“I don’t know.”
(I don’t trust, you mean)
“Wanda, you have to let us in.” Steve Rogers says, voice kind.
“I did.” She answers him. “Vision. He understood.”
(But he wasn’t me. He isn’t)
“Like Pietro.”
Wanda’s lips tremble at his name.
“Are you feeling okay? Are you—?”
“Have you ever lost someone you had your whole life so suddenly, so—”
“Yes.” Steve Rogers murmurs and his eyes travel to T’Challa’s tower. “I do.”
Wanda bristles. Her eyes turn red for a moment and she feels it. She feels herself losing control. “You have him back. It doesn’t count.”
He at least has the decency to look ashamed. “Yes, I guess so. But for many years I—”
“How did you deal with that?”
“I didn’t. I just put myself out there. Again and again and again until I found him. Or until he found me, at least.”
“I want him back.” She whispers. “I just— I need him. He was my everything. I don't know how to be alone.”
(But you’re not)
“The one in my head is not enough.”
“The one in your—?”
“My memories.” She explains quickly. “My memories of him aren’t enough.”
(You can change this. You know you can. You just have to wish hard enough. Onto a falling star. Onto yourself)
“It’s impossible to bring the dead back, Wanda. Even though we want to.”
“I know.” She whispers.
(Do you?)
“Talk to T’Challa. He is wise beyond time, he'll know how to help.”
Wanda smiles weakly. “I will.”
“Maybe he knows how to move on too.”
(You don’t need to move on. You need me. And we know you’ll never leave me. I’ll never leave you. I’ll never ever leave you. Do you even want me to?)
She sighs and closes her eyes. Wanda feels the power between her fingers, the nature around her, the wind moving through webs of red power. With a twirl of fingers, the wind changes direction, gains strength and knocks her hair onto her face. A sea of auburn hair blinds her for a moment and in this red darkness she sees Pietro and he smirks and winks and she is so close, so close she can touch. Wanda can have him, Wanda can have him again, she can—
The blue sky blinds her with its brightness, the light takes Pietro away from her. Wanda feels ashamed of its clarity, though she does not know why.
Wanda looks at Steve Rogers, still there, eyes concerned, face pale.
(He fears you, Wanda. They all do. He is Stark on another body. His hands are too red with the blood of others, mine own too)
“It shouldn’t be this easy to change the direction of the wind.” Wanda says, frowning.
He forces a smile. “Maybe it is for a few people. You can’t be the only one.”
.
“You are not.” T’Challa says, his thick accent a reminder she is not the only foreigner. Even though it’s his country.
She misses Sokovia.
She misses Vision.
She misses her old life.
She misses, more than anything, Pietro.
(I’m here, sister. I’m here for you)
“I’m not.” Wanda says slowly. “I’m not alone.” She can hear the relief in her own words.
“No. What you do is magic. And there are many who can do the same.” He smiles at this and his eyes show a warmth that makes Wanda understand why he is a king. Why people trust him with their own life.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Could they teach me?”
He stares at her for a long moment. He welcomed her with a smile, but now his eyes are hard like the steel of his claws. The change is what makes him a king, Wanda understands. It’s like a slap in the face and she takes a step back. Right, she remembers herself. I killed his own, because she wasn’t fast enough, because she wasn’t Pietro.
(that’s why you need me, sister. Where you see, I deliver. We survived everything for a reason. United we stand, divided we fall. I did first, and now you are going down because they, they don’t trust you)
“I think you need more than we can help. I think you need to go where they learned everything.”
“Where?”
“Kamar-Taj” He says after a moment of silence. Hesitation.
Inside her head, she feels Pietro smile. Not that smirk she hated and loved at the same time, but a malicious one that makes her shudder.
(Yes, there. It’s there, Wanda. You can feel it, can’t you? The possibilities)
“Yes.” She repeats. “There.”