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oksana-moods · 7 days
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The moon dressed as Saturn.
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oksana-moods · 2 months
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Should I be studying?
Yes
Instead of, am I writing?
Yes
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oksana-moods · 2 months
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I absolutely adore Queen of Promises! Thank you so much for the masterpiece!
Aah Thank you so, so much for taking your time to pass by and leave love in form of words! I’m glad you enjoyed ❤️
It made my day!
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oksana-moods · 3 months
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Queens of Promise - Final Part
Summary: The journey is a work of art, they say. And if to grow one needs to bleed, then you certainly paid your price. 
A/N: Writing this part was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Nothing seemed fit, nothing seemed good enough for a Last Part. There were some feelings or emotions that I couldn’t quite grasp, unfortunately, so to give you this part without stalling any further, I decided to move on with what I had. Hope you guys like it. Thank you to the ones who stayed or kept asking for the end of this story. Thank you everyone who spared a time of your life to read my work. And to the ones who shared some love, thank you.
As always, it means the world to me. 
Previous Parts here
Warnings: Game of Thrones kind of violence, language. Mentions of blood and death.
“We were the Kings and Queens of promise We are the Queens”
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Your limbs hurt, it feels like daggers are piercing through your skin with every step taken, yet you’re standing. It’s astounding.
Just like the people of Taharr, who gathered under the castle walls alongside the river shores from both sides. From your point of view they looked like ants, but there were more than thousands willing to pay their respects, their last courtesy to Queen Calanthe. The Strong Lioness.
The Lords, Ladies and other knights were allowed inside the castle walls and would attend the ceremony on the inner patio, the one with the river view.
However, you and a very selected few were in the winter garden, where there were statues of the former kings and queens, soon there would be one of Calanthe too. Too soon for your liking.
Many rivers grew or were born from a mountain of rocks, but the “Castle River” started from inside the boulders and rocks where Triskelion Castle was built in, its first appearance was, in fact, in the winter garden.
This spot of crystal clear water had a coffin boat on it, beautifully decorated with golden lionesses and adorned with chrysanthemums, your mother’s favorite flowers. They were simple - misunderstood she used to say, but they were always pretty.
Usually, the ceremony occurred on the seashore, at Pierce Coast, however, contemplating the attacks and the coup attempt, you had decided to stay and proceed with the burial in the capital, from the castle.
You knew how far you could shoot an arrow from this height and considering the winter garden stood close to fifty meters from the ground, would be a long shot. She deserved no less.
Three women covered from head to toe in full white gowns with golden lines forming some sort of pattern arrived at the garden where you stood and started to enchant their elder song.
It was always beautiful to watch, but the lines of the old druid poem touched a little too close this time.
The elder song was meant to guide the spirit to afterlife, the lines referred to the circle of life provided by the water. Every energy, every soul, everything was water. The flow of the universe.
You tried, but it was impossible not to share a tear or two as the last verse was sung. The song was about to end, your mother’s time as ruler was about to end. This was a reality that you did not want to acknowledge.
Your mother was gone.
And you were alone.
As the song ended, the men close to the boat looked at you expectantly, looking for your signal to release your mother on the river, to go down with the flow. As her boat was released, you tightened the grip around the bow on your hand.
Your knuckles hurt, but everything in you hurts, there’s nothing new.
You casted your eyes downwards, following the boat but also watching as the others knelt as it passed by, never stopping, the water flow was inexorable just as life was. 
It was painful, it was raw. It was true.
The seconds passed and your eyes burned just as your heart was, it was time for you to shoot your arrow in flames, only you couldn’t. After your shot, there was no turning back.
Maria, who stood several steps ahead, looked back at you. Even without words you knew what she meant. It was time. But you couldn’t.
She nodded, encouraging you to lift your useless arm and loose the arrow as you were supposed to. But you couldn’t.
You looked down at the fire pit in front of you, waiting to kiss your arrow and, as the flames danced, you blinked your tears away. Your hands were shaken.
“How can you shoot so far, mother?” The childish voice made the woman look down at you and she smiled that tender smile of hers.
“Practice, love.” She approached you with her bow, beautifully crafted and adorned with rubies, she extended it to you and encouraged you to hold it properly.
Now, standing right behind you, she commanded. “Take a deep breath and, as you do, pull the string with your other arm.” You did as you were told and she kind of guided, kind of corrected your movement. “Take your aim and release.”
Your movement faltered. “How do I aim, mother?” You heard a snort a second later after your question.
“Both eyes open, love. Choose your target and point the arrow at it, that’s your aim.” She instructed and guided your little hands. “Never lose sight of it. inhale, exhale, release.” Her voice was soft in your ear.
It was a little overwhelming. Only ten summers had passed for you, but your training was intensive. You wanted to play gobstones, wanted to play pass the ball, throw your hat, all the games the other kids were playing, yet, you couldn’t. Your free time was scarce as a breeze during summer. As a future ruler, you were supposed to train, study, observe, learn. There was no time for anything else.
“I can’t do this, momma.” You muttered after a second, for your arms got too stiff and shaken, you lowered them before you could loosen the arrow.
“Why not?” She inquired, never leaving her place behind you.
“My arms hurt. I’m terrible at this.” You confessed. From all the activities she requested for you to take, bow and arrow was the worst. You were the worst at it.
A second snort was heard and she squeezed your shoulder lightly. “Your arms will hurt if you overthink. Do it swiftly.” After a light tap on your chin, you turned your face to her. “And you’re not terrible, you’re afraid of failure. Don’t be.”
“What if I miss?” You blinked as she laughed lightly at your question.
“If you miss, you go and take another shot.” Her smile could light up the whole world. “Failing is to give up, so there’s no failing, as long as you try again. Be stubborn.”
At this, your face lit up like a tree during the summer festivals. “I can be stubborn!” You offered as if this was all that was missing in your life for you to accomplish your goals. Maybe it was.
With renewed interest and spirit, you turned to your target once more and pulled the string again, following her guidance as if it was a recipe.
“Don’t overthink.” She muttered behind your ear and hell, you heard her smile when you did as told. Your hand let go of the string and your eyes followed your arrow until it reached the target, almost a hand away from the bullseye, it wasn’t perfect, but you were content.
You could be stubborn.
A hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you blinked again at the arrow on your hand, begging for you to bathe it in flames and let it paint the blue sky.
“You can do this.” Carol Danvers smiled softly by your side and you clenched your jaw.
Taking a deep breath, your arm pulled the string until it reached your cheek and you could see the flame dancing on the tip of your arrow, the boat caught on your blurred vision.
Inhale. Exhale. Release.
Thousands of eyes followed as the arrow crossed the sky on that pale morning. As it flew, your heart hammered your ribcage.
You let out a low whistle when the arrow missed the boat and dived a foot away from the boat where your mother slowly and continuously flowed with the waters.
You had missed.
You had failed.
All of a sudden, you felt a light breeze hit your face and you sworn by all heavens that your nostrils were invaded by your mother’s perfume. Your lungs burned as chrysanthemums claimed the air around you.
Another light squeeze on your shoulder and, handling you another arrow, Danvers stubbornly said. “You can do this.”
Stubborn.
“I can be stubborn.” You muttered, doing the same thing you did seconds before. You lowered the point of the arrow on the fire pit and soon pulled the string until it touched your cheek again.
Inhale. Exhale. Release.
The people on the banks of the river resumed the chant started by the White Ladies as the boat was engulfed in flames. It was beautiful, it was disheartening.
As the boat sank, you retreated into the castle. Your steps were heavy, stiffy as if walking took a toll on you.
Your mother’s sun sank into the fate's waters.
Your sun had just begun its ascension.
– – –
The chill in the air could almost be touched. The Winter Garden was taken by a thick haze, yet you could still see what was in front of you.
The stone, carved to resemble the woman your mother once was, felt cold, probably colder than it should be, but you touched it, nonetheless.
Almost a moon had passed and the crafters worked non-stop until this memorial statue was ready, you were adamant that it should be before your coronation. And here you were, hours away from officially being crowned the new Queen of Taharr, in front of the last queen, seeking comfort.
“I never really gave much thought of how this would be,” You spoke to the stone, it remained immovable, as you knew it would. “But I never thought it’d be this hard.” 
Even with all the things you had to do after the last battle, known as the Battle of the Failed Coup, your head didn’t rest or stopped thinking about your mother. After a while, it became pretty common for you to speak out loud as if she was present and would engage the conversation. 
You were past the point of feeling silly, now it brought you a mild sense of comfort. It was odd, you knew, but one should work with what they got and if you had to go through your grieving, you’d do it your own way.
“How am I supposed to move on?” You asked but your words were engulfed by the fog and died in nothingness just like all the others. You felt so not ready for this, completely unprepared and the urgency only drove you a little bit closer to the brink of the edge of your sanity.
She would hate to see you stuck in the mud like you were, and you’re afraid you’re becoming everything you hate. However, day after day, the weight of your decisions and their aftermath sometimes felt a burden too heavy for your shoulders. And you hated to feel so incapable, so defeated. 
First, you thought you were listening to things, but then the unmistakable sound of shoes scraping the wet grass properly reached your ears and you knew you were not alone anymore, a person - not a ghost - was about to arrive where you were. 
“Thought I’d find you here.” Maria Rambeau's voice filled the silence after she stopped right behind you.
You ignored her choice of greeting and fired. “What have I done, Maria?” 
“I’m afraid I don’t follow, my queen.” The woman shifted, side walking to level her eyes with yours. You all but flinch at the measure, you’re still not prepared to be called the supreme ruler of Tahar. Still feeling undeserving of the title you’re supposed to bear. 
“All this time, all the lessons and I feel like it was all for nothing. She’s dead and that’s because of me. It’s all my fault.” There you were, digging deeper into the mud of remorse and guilt. You felt like a wreck, beyond repair. 
“If I may, I don’t see it that way, my lady.” Maria starts. “Queen Calanthe died a true queen’s death, fighting for her people feistily, as she always did.” She paused for a second to make sure you were listening. “Your mistakes or even Loki’s betrayal can’t and won’t diminish the importance of her sacrifice, of her strength.”
Her hands pointed to the castle you were standing on, as to emphasize her next words. “The enemy had us in a chokehold, yet Triskelion resisted, she endured and Taharr prevailed. There will be so many songs about this feature, my lady.” 
“What will I do with songs?” You retorted like a petty child.  
“Revel in them! For she’ll always be alive, in every ballad sang from a bard and in our hearts. In your heart.” She replied without missing a beat, adamant in making her point of view crystal clear.
“And now?” You inquired. Unsure to whom, if to the wind, to your friend or to the memory of your mother, you did not know. “There was so much to learn. There’s a whole kingdom waiting for me to guide them but I feel so lost.
“I don’t know if I should gather the army and seek revenge or if I should prepare for winter and reinforce the borders.” You continued your rant. “If I should reunite with the other kings to hold Hydrarr’s plans or if I should just stand here, waiting.” You balled your fists, irritated with one of the feelings inside your heart. 
Being indecisive wasn’t a trait usually associated with you. Before, you’d say that is best to ask forgiveness than living a lifetime wondering what could have been. Before, you had your mind made up and set with a plan. Before, if things went wrong, you’d just go with the flow. 
That was before. 
“There are so many decisions, so many lives depending on me and said decisions. I feel like I’m crushing with the burden and crushing even further with each passing second.” You finish, now looking back to the stone, jaw clenched. 
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Maria interjected. “I used to say these words to your mother and it is only fitting to keep saying it, because it’s still the truth.” 
Her words made you avert your eyes to your friend and there were so many thoughts running in your head, that it seemed difficult to organize or even prioritize given there was so much to be done.
Deciding on taking one step at a time, you shot. “Maria, remember that promise that you made me that you’d comply with everything I said after I became queen?” 
“Of course I do, my queen.” Maria smiled softly. “Is this the moment where I pledge to follow every single command of yours, no matter how silly they are?” She humored, not really knowing why the hell you brought this up. 
“No.” You turned back and looked at her. Your tone was so serious that you can see her forehead frowning. “I want you to be you. I want you to be my conscience… Would you do the honor of serving Taharr as High Advisor?” 
She’s taken back by your bluntness. This wasn’t small, actually, you were asking a lot of her but giving just as much. It was the second most powerful position in this Kingdom, losing only, of course, to the queen herself. “M-My queen? Are you sure?” 
“I am.” Few times in your life you felt that sure. 
She’s speechless for a moment. Perhaps trying to read the catch on your request, maybe weighing her options. 
“I won’t take shit from you if you try to play the queen card on me. If you want me to step in as Advisor, I want my voice to be heard and I don’t want blindspots.” Her face was devoid of that humor from seconds ago. She meant business and if you wanted her to take this job, there would be conditions. She wouldn’t pose as a mannequin    
“Deal.” You offered your hand for her to shake and seal the offer. “That’s exactly why I need you. I want to be as good as my mother was, and to do that I need someone to keep me on my toes.” You sighed, now deflated. “There’s no one else here to do that.”
“You are good.” She intervened. “You’re worried about the right things, everyone makes mistakes.” Maria squeezed your shoulder affectionately, trying to pull you back from the sorrow abyss you were floundering in. “We just have to learn how to pick ourselves up now. We’ll do this together.”
You nod, but let her words simmer through your head while you take a few steps until the edge of the Garden, where you could see the city below. The sun had only started to rise and the fog was slowly dissipating around you or the city. 
“Learn.” You try the word in your mouth as if a wine for you to taste. You had learnt so much in this past year. Hate. Love. Fear. Heartbreak. Grief.  
“Can I ask you something personal, Maria?” You asked, briefly glancing at your friend then looking back down, to the small buildings bathing on the first light of the day. Maria barely nodded her head to signal for you to go on, then you fired. “How did you know Carol was the one?
She remained silent for a few seconds, looking down, you knew she had heard you, for this was her telltale that her brain was working on an answer. “Do you remember when your mother created the High Guard?”
“She asked for the mightest and greatest knights from every village in Taharr. It didn’t matter their status. First it was a tournament, then the best were selected so you’d fight against each other until only the best kept standing.” You remembered, despite being relatively young. It lasted for weeks and you were mesmerized by many warriors displaying incredible techniques and skills.  
“Exactly. Carol and I were from different villages, so the tournament was the reason why we met and she challenged me in every possible way.” Maria began, eyes flashing with memories of a brilliant past, if the smile on her lips said anything. 
“In the tournament she was my rival, but after, at the sparring turns, she came with everything she had. She was marvelous indeed: strong, fast, powerful, yet, I could always find a way to counter her attacks.
“We kept our little competition, even after the tournament, even after we were both granted our current titles for bravery and skill set, but there had always been this pull between us, you know?
“I’d both hate and love that smile of hers and she later confessed she both hated and loved my bossy face. When she finally let her guard down, I saw the woman behind the title, behind the Marvelous and she was beautiful - I simply knew Carol was my person.”
You nod as if to thank her for her explanation while you stood there contemplating her words and their meaning. Eyes still cast down, you’re able to discern some dots that you knew were people, moving around the streets starting, preparing for another day. Completely unaware of your inner queries. 
“May I ask why you wonder, my queen?” Perhaps not only your citizens were unaware of the doubts clawing your guts. 
“I-.” You sighed, unsure of what words to use in an attempt to explain the turmoil in your head and chest concerning a certain princess that has already been spoken for. “I thought Wanda was the one.” You felt stupid for still giving thought to a woman who misled you. “For me.” 
Out of a sudden, you felt your back hurt again due the burden pressuring you as if to remind you of where your focus should be. It was not the time to think about Wanda. 
And speaking of hurt, you stared at the burnt mark on your hand, a last minute gift from your pal Lord Vision, as punishment for your audacity of touching Wanda in a way you were not supposed to. 
“For the first time in my life, I let myself be vulnerable and she did the same.” Your eyes met concerned obsidian orbs intently looking at you. “I swear she did and she showed me how wonderful she was on the inside.” 
Fidgeting with your hands and the hem of your tunic, you continued, eyes cast once more on the people moving on with their lives. The way you couldn’t. “There were so many flaws, Maria, fears… I loved that Wanda no one else knew.” 
A sad smile now adorned your lips. “And I hate to know she played me like a doll in a sick game. I hate to understand that I was just stupid for falling in love and believing that she loved me back.”
“You shouldn’t think that way, dear.” Turning to look at her again, you could see her eyes were soft, but there wasn’t a single trace of pity. “What your heart felt was your truth. I, myself, had a hard time believing that Princess Wanda was capable of something like this. But if she deceived you, that’s on her. She’s the one losing.” 
Her lips twitched a little, trying to give way to a small but sincere smile. “You are a wonderful person and whoever you choose to be your queen will be the luckiest woman for sure.”
You narrowed your eyes a little. Maria wasn’t one known for throwing compliments at the wind for no reason. With a slight smirk, you asked. “Are you saying this because you’re my friend?” 
She gasped, offended. “Of course not!” Then, the lines in her face turned a little less grave. “I’m telling you this because you are the Queen, my boss. Why else would I lie?” 
At her words, a laugh erupted from your chest as if a bubble wanted to set free. Your whole body shook and you could see hers did as well. 
For some reason, after this unexpected section of laughter, you felt a little less burdened, it was just tiny, but you felt a little bit lighter. 
As the laugh died down, she elbowed you lightly and called. “Come. There’s a coronation for you to get prepared for.” 
Wordlessly, you started to follow her, casually walking towards your chambers. Before your mind could travel to an unwanted, dark place of sorrow or worry, Maria’s voice found you again. 
“Have you heard your friend Aria Stark is here for your ceremony?” She never gave you the time to reply, for she completed her own thoughts. “And that her sister, aka your ex-fiancé, Queen Sansa, came as well?” 
“Oh.” It was all that you could mutter. You knew Aria should arrive soon, for she sent you a raven when she heard the news. Funny how a powerful friendship developed after you stumbled on a lost grieving girl in Braavos. 
But you were specially surprised by Sansa’s presence, you supposed she wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you, politely, declined her proposal offer. 
“‘Oh’” Maria mocked your tone. “I swear, you and your redheads.” 
– – – 
The raging storm knocked at the walls mercilessly, the thunder shook the whole castle as the lightning flashed the room alit every now and then. The fire in the fireplace danced erratically and you were surprised it still continued alive despite the wind making force through the cracks of the windows.
Staring at the cup of wine in your hand, you thought that maybe the weather was just mirroring the feelings in your chest. The taste of the wine faded from your tongue, but you could still taste Wanda’s love on your very lips. 
It was amazing, actually, how you could all but remember your time with her when confined in your chambers alone. If not sad, it would be mesmerizing the way you missed her lips and not even the strongest alcohol could numb it in your skin, in your mind or heart.
You wished you could escape the assault of memories and tender moments together, however, all you seemed to be capable of was to stumble on the ashes of your once upon a time with the northern princess. 
So much for your happy ending. 
Heavy knocks on the door broke your miserable daze and you cursed them, and entertained the idea of asking for their head on a spike for interrupting your sulking, but you assumed it’d be Maria. It would be more likely for her to have your head in one. 
Without waiting for your response, you were proven right, when she barged into the room as if she had run for miles. Her rapid breath made you anxious, for she hadn’t given you a single clue as to why she was so nervous and breathless. 
“My Queen, you won’t believe-.” She paused for air, but you hated the drama she created. There were thousands of things you wouldn’t believe in, but they were all running through your head. 
You wouldn’t believe it, but you entertained the idea of a dragon rampaging your realm. Or about flying whales passing above the city, with this storm, who could say?! Perhaps the Kree or Skrulls had organized and orchestrated a secret invasion and the city was doomed. Highly unlikely, but what if the same iced zombies that infected Westeros came to Noveria? After all, no one really knows what happens in Vormir. 
“My Queen-” She resumed, putting your imagination to rest. “Barton is here, alive. And the Black Widow is here with him.” Her eyes portrayed nothing, and you did hear the second part. Lady Natasha, your enemy’s loyalist was in your castle, the nerve. 
But you chose to focus on the first part, for lately, good news was just scarce as the leaves during winter. Your beloved friend, the one that taught you so much, the very one you thought you had lost - just another casualty to your naivety and recklessness, was back and alive. 
At least this was definitely good news and yeah, this was something you couldn’t believe in. 
You started to move around your room, gathering the minimum of clothes to be presentable before your subjects and you thought how much you have changed, a few months ago and you wouldn’t have minded if you were half naked. 
As you approached your closet, you barked at Maria. “Take Clint and Romanoff to the Great Hall. Call the cooks and bring whatever they can prepare this fast and get a barrel of our finest wine.” The High Advisor nodded and started to leave the room, but stopped when you spoke once more. 
“And for fuck’s sake send a word to Lady Laura, immediately.” A sharp nod and she fled to comply with your orders. 
The fire cracked calmly in the fireplace, giving the foolish idea that everything was calm despite the thunderstorm raging against the walls, despite the storm increasing inside your chest.
As soon as you entered, you spotted three figures standing, close to the fireplace - Maria, Carol and Sam. And another two figures seated at the table, one in front of another, eating rather fast - they were starving. 
The quietness of the Hall was violently interrupted by your heels clacking against the marble floor as you marched towards the people gathered and saw their heads rising from their meals to look at you. 
Even a few meters away, you saw Clint limping from his chair and sunk his knees on the floor, looking directly at your eyes. “My Queen.” The weight of his eyes and tone showed you his grief, his – your ruefulness. 
Before your hand could touch his shoulder, you saw Natasha Romanoff also kneeling slightly behind Clint, eyes cast on the floor and voiced. “Queen Lioness, my condolences.” The action surprises you, surely, but you’re mostly stunned because of her tone. 
It almost seemed that she meanted what she had just said, that she was indeed sad about your mother’s death, even though her Kingdom, her army, was responsible for this fact. 
Confused, you nodded. Then, resumed your previous action and pulled Clint by his shoulders, so he could get to his feet, and hugged him. 
“I thought you were dead.” You confided, voice as far from a queen’s as possible, twice as weak. “I’m so glad you’re not.” 
He returned your embrace just as tight. You knew what you had suffered, only the gods could know what this man had endured. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it faster.” And by his words you knew he blamed himself for not being here during the battle, the coup attempt. Or the burial. He, too, blamed himself for Queen Calanthe’s death. 
“You’re here now.” You patted his cheek and gave him a weak smile. You meant your words, but it still hurt, you wouldn’t deny it. 
Taking a deep breath to help you fall into the character you were supposed to play, you raised your chin slightly and directed a hard glare at Natasha, with a matching hard tone directed at Clint. “Now you want to explain why there is an enemy, a Sokovian no less, still breathing inside my castle?” 
– – – 
“You’re lying.” You hissed, for the thousandth time. You just couldn’t believe what they, especially Natasha, were trying to say to you. 
“Why would I lie?” She asked, tiredly, arms crossed in her chest. You amused the idea of putting her in chains, to make her understand her position, you even entertained the idea of taking her to her room, a cell in the dungeons, to retribute the hospitality. 
But in the end, you gave in after Barton pledged on your friendship’s name for you to listen to them, to the both of them. The only problem is that they were suggesting absurd things to a very jaded woman. 
“Oh.” You mocked confusion. “Why would a Sokovian lie, Romanoff?” You shot back venomously. “You’ve been lying this whole time! I don’t even know your reasons anymore!” At this, you threw the decorated invitation you had received earlier at the table. 
The marks of burnt and crinkles of a parchment recently crumbled in a paper ball were visible, but also visible was its content. Without even trying to hide your disgust, you started to spat the words engraved not only in the paper, but also in your mind.
“Prince Vision, heir of Hydrarr, son of Red Skull, proudly announces his marriage to Princess Wanda Maximoff, heir of Sokovia, daughter of King Django and Queen Marya Maximoff, with the blessings of King Pietro, who announces his retirement due critical illness. The ceremony will be due in two moons. This invitation is extended to the friendly realms to Sokovia.”
Taharr wasn’t, obviously, a friendly realm to Sokovia. This was probably Vision’s way of taking an opportunity of messing with your head a little further. Or, perhaps, this could be Wanda’s doing. Who knew?
Whoever sent this, did on the sole purpose of fucking with you. And they succeeded. 
Maria, Carol and Sam gasped at your words, they were just as shocked as you were. You knew about the marriage, it hurt like hell to see a confirmation, but you were completely in the dark about Lord Vision’s - now Prince Vision - origins. 
Not to mention the news about Pietro’s retirement, since when does a King or Queen retire? All the ones you knew died and their rest would be in the afterlife. What the fuck was going on?
A more rational part of your brain understood the geopolitics involved in this marriage: Hydrarr and Sokovia would become one united Kingdom, with its forces and ruthlessness combined, who knew where they’d stop? With King Pietro’s retirement, Wanda and Vision would, respectively, become Queen and King of the combined territory. 
With a start, you realized the only ones who did not bore impressed looks were Clint and Natasha. They already knew about this. And, for a split second, you almost doubted your friend. Almost. 
“And that’s a coup.” Clint pointed at the paper while the Black Widow simply wrinkled her nose as if the parchment had a bad smell. “A very well orchestrated one, might I add. They’re overthrowing Pietro.” 
Your eyes darted back to him and he continued. “I told you, Lord Vision has been contaminating Sokovia for years. Day after day, he’s working to make it more Hydrarr’s. And with this marriage? He’ll achieve it.” 
“Harv Krickitt told you this?” You asked about the man, the jeweler, who crafted the piece of jewel the Black Widow assigned to kill you had received as payment. Barely a year has passed, but it felt so, so long ago, almost another life. 
Remembering that day, that night, your eyes were hard and jaw so clenched it hurt, still, a pale contrast to the pain brought by the memories dancing behind your eyes. 
“Kricket told us Vision was the one to ask for the necklace, with the lioness’ pendant. But he was asked to deliver it to Barnes’ care.” Natasha answered, voice as if made of stone. “He killed Steve during the attack. Those men, that day? They were a Hydrarr unit, a cover up.”
“As everything so far, my queen, this was a set up.” Clint completed. And you laughed at the absurd image they were trying to paint. Inwardly. Outside it looked more like a snort that could very well be mistaken with a choke.
“You want me to believe that Pietro, that Wanda,” Your voice failed, it’s been months since you last spoke her name out loud. You tried not to show any weaknesses, but your heart still skipped a beat and you hated it. “-had nothing to do with this?” 
“Precisely.” His words were unwavering. He was certain and you seriously wondered how badly your friend had been compromised. 
If you were the older you, this thought wouldn’t have even popped into your head, because it'd be straight away unfathomable, but the older you died after facing the treason of people so dear to you. Wanda’s betrayal was a stab in the guts, for sure, but Loki’s? It killed your heart. 
So, who could blame you for asking? 
“Did you turn?” Your tone was flat, devoid of emotion. 
Across the room, your peripheral sight caught heads snapping at you or even the sound of an intake of a good amount of air. The other occupants of this room judged you had gone too far on your assumption and that this was not what someone with Clint’s reputation should hear upon returning home. 
But you didn’t care that this could offend him or even if you were calling him traitor right on his face, you were the queen, weren’t you? You were entitled to. 
To his credit, Lord Barton didn’t even flinch at your question, his voice, still unwavering. “I would never!”
Your eyes searched for his, scrutinized his soul looking for any sign of deceit but you found nothing. He was speaking the truth. 
Nodding as to show you accepted his answer, you resumed the conversation. “What are you suggesting?” 
“Vision has the Maximoff twins in a hook.” He fired back without wasting a second, if you were willing to hear him, there was no time to waste. And, as if on cue, Natasha expanded the idea started by Clint. 
“Pietro is ill, that part is true, but Vision is threatening Wanda’s life if he does not step back.” This sentence ignited a fire in your whole being, even though you didn’t know what to believe. If all of this is true or not, it didn’t matter, the idea of someone hurting Wanda made you very angry. “And Wanda has to marry Vision, otherwise he’ll kill Pietro.” 
Your head snapped at the redhead seated in front of you so fast it felt like a whiplash, at the same time, your heart rate skyrocketed to the moon. 
“You mean she hadn’t agreed with this marriage on her own?” You carefully chose your next words, you wanted to make sure your ears and your brain were not playing games with you. “Are you telling me that she won’t marry him because she wants, but obliged to keep her brother safe?” 
“I am.” Her confirmation blew the air out of your lungs. 
Alarmed, you got off your seat and retreated to the fireplace, which still cracked, unbothered by the revelations these walls have just witnessed. You tried to remind yourself to keep breathing, because these past minutes were beyond intense. 
Your head was still trying to wrap itself around the proposition the spies were presenting to you and, at the same time, your heart was trying to grasp the meaning behind these implications. 
Wanda was about to marry a man because of her duty to her brother, to protect the last blood attachment she has with her family. And if she was forced to marry him, if Pietro was not involved, then could this mean-? 
“Wanda would never betray you, My Queen.” Clint’s voice reached your ears as if he spoke from miles away, but he knew how fast your head and heart were running, he knew what sort of questions plagued your mind. “She was devastated, went berserk after she found the house you shared empty.” 
Contradictory emotions clashed on your chest and you didn’t even know what those emotions were, for there were so many. And just like that, you didn’t know what to think or what to make out of this. 
For so long, you believed and were led to believe that Wanda had participated, organized this ploy like a brilliant sociopath. You blamed her for your suffering, you hated her and called names in the confines of your room at night while tears ran free down your cheek. 
You cursed the feeling she made you feel and now someone dares to say otherwise. Someone dares to say you got it all wrong, that you were lied to and the woman you loved had nothing to do with this? 
“This is profanity.” You whispered, but somehow Clint heard, despite the heavy rain outside. 
“I’m not lying.” He confirmed, as if this was all that you needed to accept this plot twist. 
“You can’t possibly think that I’ll believe this, Clint. I was put through hell.” You cried, disregarding the others still present, you didn’t care if they saw you weak right now. This wasn’t news to them after all.
Without a word, Natasha pulled something from her battered purse and you were about to turn away again when she opened her hand, palm flat upwards, offering you its content. Your eyes narrowed due the feeble light, tiredness and to try and keep the tears from falling. 
“Wanda gave me this.” The Black Widow spoke solely to you, for she knew the others didn’t know what was in her hand nor its meaning. “She said you would understand-” And by the looks of it, Natasha herself didn’t really know what was the meaning of what she was carrying either. “and I quote ‘It’s impossible to hold back the wind”. 
It was dirty, but with a step or two you could very well distinguish the trace and pattern of a tied knot in a rope, it was unmistakable that it was the same piece of Aberdeen rope you had given Wanda in what felt like a lifetime ago. 
The memory, though, surfaced as if it was yesterday. 
Wanda watched as you absentmindedly ran a hand through your hair. “Why do I feel so tied to you?” She wondered out loud, after you settled down close to her at the cushions sprawled on the floor.
“I don’t know.” You smiled softly, offering her a cup of tea. “But if it makes you feel better, I feel just the same.” You countered and she smiled away. 
It was unclear if your answer had pleased her or not. Sometimes you felt as though you knew Wanda like the palm of your hand and others, just like now, it was as if she was a stranger that had just arrived in the room. 
Sometimes it was impossible to decipher her silence. 
After a while, she turned to you with a bittersweet smile gracing her heavenly lips. “Do you think this will last forever?”  
You were touched, paralyzed even, for you didn’t really know what she specifically meant with ‘this’. It could be the feeling of being tied or the tie itself - conversations like these with Wanda were like treading on thin ice or holding on a breakable thread. So you remained muted, waiting for further context. 
“Forever. Don’t you think this is such a strange concept?” She chuckled humorlessly. “Forever doesn’t even exist, if we think about it.” She rambled with brows furrowed. 
“Forever could last a lifetime.” You tried tentatively, still unsure of where this conversation was heading to. 
“Forever could last a whole minute.” She retaliated without missing a beat. She wasn’t even looking at you anymore, but to a fix point at the wall as if it could show her the future if she stared at it for long enough. 
“You don’t know how long your forever will last.” Now, your brows were also crinkled only your eyes were cast on the mug nested on your hands. “No one knows.” 
“What do people do, then?” You looked at her, but her inquiry seemed genuine. 
You laughed at the absurd. You had no clue about what they do with their forevers. To be honest, you didn’t know anything about this. “I don’t know. I guess, they live the best they can, nonetheless?” You supplied. 
It was so strange, because during your whole life you’ve learnt a lot of things, but no one stopped even a second to explain to you what it was to like someone. To love someone. The ‘what to dos’ and the ‘hows’ were completely overlooked as you grew up. 
Tilting your head up, as if the sky could be of any help, your eyes caught sight of a rope loosely tied to the canopy, it wasn’t big, but you took a piece with your knife and expertly started to knot it down, your skills from your time as sailor showing off, and you were highly aware of Wanda’s eyes focused on you.
You pulled the tip of the rope from both sides but the knot remained untouched, the tie was still perfectly strong, as if made of stone. Then, you offered it to her, heart pounding in your chest as if you were handing her your own heart on a silver plate. 
She took it in her hands with a tenderness yet unseen, as if it was made of glass. “This tie could last forever.” Though you pointed to the piece of rope in Wanda’s hands, you both knew what tie you meant with your words. You just hoped she wouldn’t freak out with your naive, yet brave attempt to wish for impossible things. 
You were completely conscious that a future with Wanda was highly improbable. Still, you couldn’t help but dream that the two of you would find a way and make it work. Somehow.
“Can we stop this?” She asked, but this time she stressed the last words of her sentence and moved her hand between the two of you. This time, she was crystal clear about what she meant. 
“It’d be like holding back the wind.”
You touched it with a gentleness that no one in the room judged you’d possess. It burst a fire in your chest and it was getting harder and harder to hold back the emotion slipping through the cracks of your heart. 
It was impossible to ignore the hammering thoughts shooting through your head and there were so many, so loud that you thought you’d go crazy. 
This piece of fabric meant nothing and everything at the same time. 
“I need to think.” Without another word, your fingers closed around the material and your feet stormed out of the room to collect yourself in your own chambers, so you could ruminate about the implications laid upon you this night. 
— — 
“Stop this wedding!” Lady Danvers’ voice resonated throughout the Hall. “I’ve got an objection.” She looked sheepishly to the side and revealed a sly smirk and whispered for only you and her own wife to hear. “I always wanted to say this.” 
If the moment wasn’t so daunting, you’d probably laugh or retort some snide remark, but your eyes were solely focused on the woman dressed in white in front of the makeshift altar prepared for the occasion. 
There were shocked murmurs, metal clanging against metal, for you dragged the fight from the inner gates into the main hall of the castle, where the wedding was taking place. There were voices speaking, screaming words devoid of any meaning, for your ears ignored any and all of them. 
Her eyes were locked on yours and your knees felt weak; she was a sight to behold and worship. Like a true goddess, Wanda Maximoff’s dress made her look ethereal, as if she was sent from another dimension to cleanse this Earth’s sins and her eyes cast on yours burn with something you couldn’t know.
The contrast of white and red, from her auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, was mesmerizing and it only made it difficult for you to think coherently. For a whole second you forgot where you were and what you should be doing. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” Vision shot his hand to his sword, but with one look he realized he was outnumbered. 
A sly smirk crossed your lips, tongue as sharp as usual. “Well, you did send me the invitation, have you not?” With a start, you realized that your sarcastic self hadn’t vanished for good. 
You could make anyone mad with only a couple of words. And, oh, Prince Vision red with anger was one of your favorite sports. Just like he was. 
“You’re invading my castle!” His voice boomed throughout the room, in a futile attempt to intimidate and stop your advance. Poor him. 
“Last time I checked this was Maximoff’s.” You provoked, walking towards his direction, with the conviction that his goons would know better than to come your way. You were a woman on a mission and they wouldn’t stand a chance. 
In fact, there weren’t many goons available anymore. Rumlow was dead after all, and Natasha had her dagger dangerously close to Bucky’s throat rendering him immovable. And the others… Well, they wouldn’t dare to cross paths with you right now. 
Drawing his sword, Vision took one step towards you, but you could see that this action was just an automatic response, for his eyes darting around told you his head was running all the possible outcomes and, more importantly, how he’d get away from this. 
He wouldn’t. 
You were adamant in making him pay for every single word, or minute he made you suffer. For every lie, every single action and all the blood shared that he was responsible for. Especially your mother’s. Oh, you’d make sure he’d pay. 
“One shouldn’t draw a sword if not ready to bathe in blood.” Your words were marked by each step you took, hand with a tight grip on your own sword. To be honest, it looked like he wanted to try his chances with jumping from the window instead of facing you, but you had cornered him now. 
“You think I won’t kill you?” He threatened, lifting his sword so it’d be between you. Perhaps in his head this could make you stop.
It wouldn’t. 
“Will you try it by yourself or will you ask someone else to do what you can’t?” You jabbed back, but remained immovable only a few steps away from him. You were ready to take matters into your own hands, you were ready to go to hell and back. 
However you were a queen, threatening a prince under another king’s roof. Again, the older you, would be hands deep into Vision’s throat squeezing the life out of him, but your new version knew better. This was not your castle, nor your land. 
No matter how much this man had made you suffer, no matter how many crimes he committed to you and to your people. This was still Sokovia, another man’s realm, there were rules and you should step down on shedding blood at your will.
“You should surrender, Vision.” King Pietro rose to his feet, taking the cue from your pause. It was visible how this illness had an effect on him even though he was trying to be tough. 
The man, on the other hand, decided to ignore this modest warning and took another step, ready to clash his sword on yours, but before he could, another blade appeared under his chin, kissing the skin on his throat which made him stop in his tracks. 
Perhaps Wanda had that sword under her dress this whole time, perhaps she took from some random guard around her. In fact, it didn’t matter where that blade came from, because her intentions were clear and menace was evident in every inch of her being. 
“You’ll do what you were told.” Not that it was needed, but her eyes screamed danger. Vision could be many things, but he wasn’t crazy enough to ignore the threat underlining her words. “You’ll abide to the King’s order.” 
Visibly cornered and defeated, the prince dropped his sword and looked up with a sorrowful eye, ready to beg for one of the Maximoffs for mercy. 
“Take this idiot out of my face.” Pietro commanded no one in particular, not that he needed, and two guards pushed Prince Vision out of the hall, closely followed by Clint and Carol. They certainly would make sure he’d stay locked. 
By then, all the guards loyal to Vision or Hydrarr were dead or arrested. It was the first part of the plan, designed in Triskelion: to take down Vision, they’d need to undermine his influence, take his minions to be able to weaken his power inside the castle.
The last part was the invasion itself and the dramatic wedding interruption.  
Your head was highly aware that you were needed to stop this plot orchestrated by Red Skull. After all, Taharr was one of the most powerful realms in Noveria, even though shaken, Triskelion was still a stronghold against enemies in this continent. Taharr was the only realm that could prevent this coup. 
No one else would be this effective, this fast or this invested. One could say that it was the smartest thing to do, that no other vengeance would be greater, but your heart hammered your ribcage looking at the redhead barely meters away from you. 
There was nothing else greater than the way she was looking at you. 
With a start, you didn’t know what to do now. All this time, you and your friends thought what needed to be done to stop the coup, your mind didn’t wander to the moment after it. Again, you were used to fighting, but what was expected to be done after the fight?
Even more, after those wonderful days in that cozy house, you’ve been running from her memories and the feelings she’d made you feel. You were clueless about what you and Wanda were - are. 
Suddenly, you felt a body colliding with yours and it took you a second to understand what was happening and you closed your arms around her. And, once more, it felt as though you had been locked out of heaven.  
The woman roamed her hands all over your body, your hair, assessing every single part to make sure you weren’t hurt. To make sure you were in one piece. When satisfied she rested it on both sides of your cheeks. Holding you in place. Eyes set on yours, centimeters away. 
“By the gods, please, don’t tell me you believe in him.” Her voice sounded strangled, as if trying to keep herself composed was a strenuous effort. 
“He was pretty convincing.” You replied without missing a beat. How could you think, when breathing her breath was so intoxicating? You were incapable of speaking something more elaborated and you knew she’d be upset with your answer, but Vision pulled quite the number. 
For a second, she said nothing. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on yours, letting her hands fall to your shoulder as yours instinctively found her waist. As if they belonged there, as if they have never left at all. 
When she opened her eyes, it was perfectly clear how sad she was. “I can’t even begin to imagine what he put you through.” They were so genuine that your heart clenched. “I’m so sorry. For everything.” She whispered the last part and it was hard for you not to kiss her right then and there. 
But you were a queen now and this was not your castle. You couldn’t just do whatever your heart desires. With a chaste kiss on her forehead, you disentangled yourself from her embrace and walked towards the limping form of King Pietro, only to realize Wanda had taken your hand on hers to hold as you walked. 
“Lioness, I apologize for everything Vision did and I condoned.” The man was weak, very different from the one you met in his dungeons. But he was still as regal as someone of his position should be. “I know it can’t be erased, but your presence will be appreciated during his trials.” 
Taking your nod as the only answer he’d receive, he turned to the crowd standing awkwardly in the hall, most of them without a single clue as to what had just transpired. Raising his voice, he said. “Now, I understand that there’s a feast to be served and I see no reason for us to starve.” Then, he turned to a maiden in sokovian’s colors and ordered. “Take half to the city and bring the rest for us, there’s an army to feed.” 
– – – 
You looked up to the sky and tried to spot any cloud but there was none. It was so impressive, because you swore you have never seen this shade of blue, it was as if the sky had been painted. 
Wanda had told you that this was a rare occurrence during winter, but it was a welcome change to the permanent gray, common for the colder season. Also, she said that if the blue showed up more than once in a week, then it meant that spring was slowly lurching towards Sokovia. 
It was the second time you were mesmerized by this impressive color and beauty. Surely spring was on its way. 
Ironic, you thought. 
‘I’ve learned to let myself get cut to always return whole with spring’. You felt as if you could hear your mother speaking these exact words to you. You felt as if you were a whole new person and somehow, these words made more sense now than ever. 
It had been a rough winter. Metaphorical and not. The weather proved to be a ruthless enemy, without mercy, it wiped the crops, farms and you thanked the gods for the crown’s reserve, so there was food enough to aid the whole kingdom. 
And, as a matter of speaking, your winter was just as hard. Funny to think you used to complain about all the training and study you had received when younger, because right now, you felt as though you should have been pushed harder. 
Mastering all weapons, learning numbers and languages, geography and geopolitics, religion and history, nothing really gave you the mere idea of how to bear the weight of a crown. The younger lioness couldn’t even grasp the importance or the challenges a ruler would experience. 
Granted, as the days passed by, you understood what you should do and knew what variables you were supposed to think of before making a decision. But nothing, and you do mean nothing, prepared you to understand that there is no right move. 
People will get hurt, people will suffer. No matter what you choose, there will always be consequences. The trick is to look for the lesser of two evils and accept what you can’t change. It was this trick that you struggled the most, though. 
It was ironic, indeed, how much you have grown after your trim. After your mother’s death, Loki’s betrayal and even Wanda’s, even though it was just another ruse, you had felt that, mourned that love, after all of these cuts and trims, you didn’t even know you could endure this much. 
Life took so much from you, yet, here you were. Still standing. 
Persevering. 
Just another irony, if someone asked you, because that's what Pietro had said to you earlier in the meeting: ‘Spring is life persevering after a long winter.’ And you agreed. 
Your philosophical moment was cut short with the arrival of no one other than Wanda. Her perfume announced her presence seconds before her hands found your back as she slid them until she was hugging you from behind. You snacked your arms around hers and closed your eyes for a moment, savoring her warmth, her scent, her company. 
Right after the wedding-stopping thing, you learnt that Wanda basically became your shadow. Wherever you went, she was probably following not far behind. Unconsciously, she was probably scared of losing you again if she let you out of her sight. 
And there was a shift in your relationship after the very much needed, long and exhaustive conversation about everything that transpired since that morning she left you in that house. Your point of view and hers. 
It was hard. She had cried and you had cried, it was obvious that she was blaming herself for basically everything you had suffered. It was unfair for her to think like this, but she was adamant. And you knew, deep down, she was sad you had doubted her. 
However, there was nothing that could be done on that matter. It was in the past. 
With a kiss on your cheek, she let go of your waist and stepped to the side so she could take a look at you. Basking in the sun like this, she felt as though you were an angel sent from above. 
You and your army saved her kingdom from certain doom. Funny, though, for Wanda never saw herself as a damsel in distress kind of princess, but her own and her people’s freedom was a gift, delivered by your hands. 
“Pietro said you wanted to talk to me?” She started, tilting her head to the side in evident curiosity. When you left her this morning after breakfast because you had a meeting with her brother, she was quite surprised. Not that you two didn’t bode well, but because she wasn’t invited. 
In fact, she was told to not interrupt. 
“Yes. Thank you for coming.” You said, turning your body so now you were facing her, the balcony serving as a body support. “I was wondering if you’d take me on that horse ride to see the waterfalls?” 
She smiled softly, her curious self giving way to the old Wanda who wouldn’t stop talking about the amazing waterfalls close to the castle. She thought about how endering you were right now, asking for her to fulfill a promise she never imagined would really become true. 
“Say no more.” She grabbed your hand and fled the room. Not long till you were each on a horseback, riding to one of her favorite places in the world. 
The ride to Ms Marvel waterfall was barely an hour long, but perpassing through fields, trees and the most beautiful sightseeing rivers. It was so pretty, so particular, that you felt as though you were walking inside Wanda’s memories, for she had described this place over and over. 
The moment you set foot on your destination, you realized how thoroughly Wanda had been when speaking about this place. Every single pebble, rock, grass and the magnificent waterfall was just as she painted with words. 
It was beautiful and magical. 
Despite the weather, you shed your clothes and jumped into the cristaline water, followed suit by the princess. The redhead, however, was far more used to the cold waters than you were, but you always liked cold baths. 
This one felt as though you were being cleansed. It was welcoming. 
As Wanda swum towards you, it was easy to see a soft smile gracing her lips and a predatory look on her eyes. Hair slick back due the water, some droplets covering her face and you wondered if she wasn’t a siren, trying to lure into unknown waters, to your demise. 
Somehow, her body was warm even though you were both chin deep into the waters and her embrace was something that you couldn’t find words to describe. And seeing this new side of her, so carefree, and not preoccupied with everything, made your heart soar in your chest. 
Surely, your relationship wasn’t exactly a secret, but it was plain to see that, right now, there were no worries about who could find out. You were not the enemy anymore, there was no war and there was no one targeting you. 
For Wanda, this was almost living her fairy tale dreams, right after emerging from her worst nightmares. First, she had lost you. She was a wreck after she realized she had not been as careful as she thought she was. 
It was no mystery to her who had taken you but much to her dismay, Vision had convinced Pietro that you were secretly invading Wolfgang, taking advantage of her innocence to demoralize his image and power. 
Wanda tried to explain to her brother, but to no avail for his mind was impregnated with lies and deceit. She tried to make Pietro understand that she loved you and though you had never used words, she pretty much knew you also had strong feelings for her, and you were definitely not using her as the Advisor had informed the king. 
It was all part of the plan. It was a mess. However, the final strike was yet his boldest. Vision pledged Wanda was impure and no one would want her as wife, but he could take this burden for the sake of their friendship. 
The nerve. 
Curious enough, things got worse when Pietro started to believe her. One day, he showed up at her door and was utterly embarrassed for not believing her, he then explained to her that he had talked to you and there were no reasons for him to think you were lying. 
Wanda’s heart broke all over, for she could only imagine how bad it must have been in the dungeons with the care of the likes of Vision and his loyalists. She was scared, she was hurt and she was desperate to set you free. 
She schemed a plan with Natasha and Clint for you to escape, but her brother fell ill, probably poisoned by Vision even though they could not prove it, and they became hostages too. On their own castle. Each of them had a sword on their throats, each of them were ready to lose everything in order to keep the other safe. 
Among all the other things, Wanda would lose the love of her life. 
“I know I never said this to you.” Your voice brought her head out of her reverie. It was even and melodic, she found herself smiling. “And I think this is so silly now, trying to mask my feelings.” She felt, more than heard you chuckling, even under the water, your whole body shook. “I love you, Wanda.” 
Her head snapped backwards so she could have a better look at your face. After all the time you spent together, she came to decipher whether you were mocking or not, yet, this voice, this tone was different. It was new altogether. 
You were older, wiser and sadlier too, she realized, you were not the Young Lioness anymore.  
“I mean it.” You finished, trying to convince her that you were not messing around. 
Realizing her lack of answer might have led you to believe she was searching your eyes for a lie, she shook her head and smiled softly. “I know.” She did believe you. She really knew, she really felt. 
You have told her, just not with words. 
You couldn’t help but lean in and capture her lips with yours. When Wanda was about to deepen the kiss, you pulled back and looked down in time to see a small pout and you smiled softly at her attitude. 
“There’s something else I want to talk to you about.” You ran your hand down her cheek, mesmerized with the perfection glued to your body. “Did Pietro say his plans for his future to you?” 
Despite the intimate moment, or position, Wanda felt a slight shift in your stance and certainly the topic of the conversation. Seconds ago you were talking about feelings and now you returned to politics. 
She didn’t not know what exactly you were talking about. Or what you really wanted to. But this question was just a preamble, that much she was certain. 
“That he desires to step down from the throne to look for treatment and healing?” She asked, head tilting to the side and she was so adorable wearing that confused look of hers that your heart skipped a beat. 
You only nodded and she asked. “Why?” 
For hours, you had been trying to think of the best form to ask her. Being blunt, straightforward as usual or perhaps with a romantic flourish, but in the end, anxiety took the best of you and you were not sure of how to do it. 
There were two Wandas. The one you were in love with, the simple woman with a heart, you usually knew what she’d do or say. But then, there was the feisty and strong princess, who will always think about her duty to her people before anything else. Even her own heart. 
And that woman? She could virtually say or do anything, she was indomable and you were irrevocably devoted to her.  
“I was thinking about what we always said…” You mentally kicked yourself for being so stupid and not knowing the right words. To be honest, you were afraid of her reply or even her decision. “About a time or place where we could simply be, where we’d have a choice.” 
A quirk of brow told you she did not understand what your words meant and you sighed heavily. Deciding to take the bandage off, you shot. “Wanda Maximoff, will you marry me?” 
She opened her mouth, but then the words hit her and you saw her eyes grasping their meaning as it sank in what you were asking. What you were really asking her. What you were really asking of her.
“How?” She asked, doubt written all over her face. 
For sure, you had hoped for an easy ‘yes’ even though you already knew it wouldn’t come. However, a how it was far better than a no.
A smart comeback made its way to your tongue, but you swallowed it down just as fast. “If you’ll step up as the new queen of Sokovia, why wouldn’t you as Novi Grad’s?” 
Her jaw dropped a few inches at your proposal and everything that would surely entail, regaining her composure after her stupor, she fired back. “Is this political?” 
She tried to disguise the hurt perpassing her being. She wanted you, but were you suggesting just a political maneuver?
“No.” You were quick to clarify. “I want to marry you because of what I feel for you. But I understand that this is not simple. Between the two of us, we can’t take one thing without the other.” 
For several seconds she looked at you and said nothing. Her eyes scrutinized every freckle, every inch of your face and eyes. You were so beautiful and she hated how much she loved you, how desperate she was for your touch. 
The possibility laid upon her was far too tempting. She was aware of her needs and duty and for a long time she wished she could split her heart from her responsibilities, but right then and there, this was her chance, your chance to finally combine both. 
It wouldn’t be needed to sever one thing from another, the both of you could take your place as required without breaking your hearts in the process. 
“Are you sure?” You were not convinced of what she was really asking. What should you be certain about? Your love, your offer or everything in between? 
“I’m sure of what I feel for you.” You replied and her eyes, once lost, finally focused on yours. A soft snort told you that this was not of her concern. Good. 
“I know, darling. I love you too, you know this already.” Her smile was soft but not more than her words. “I was just… Do you think we can reunite the realm?” She asked more directly this time and you understood her fears. 
The Golden Accords existed for a long time and there would be resistance, there would be fear, but there would also be reunion, there would be peace. And that was the very thread you were holding on. 
“In my humble opinion? You and I together can do anything.” Certainty coated every single word rolling out of your mouth and that made Wanda’s smile go wider. She always loved - after she had hated - your confidence. 
– – – 
If you squinted, her dress looked like a waterfall, cascading down her back, feet and beyond and Wanda, once more in full white, looked like a fallen angel. Her eyes, her smile… everything in her glowed brighter than a star. She was perfect. 
After your vows, Pietro took your hand and Wanda’s and laced it with a red piece of satin. It represented your bloods, your souls intertwining themselves, tying the eternal knot between your lives. 
Her smile was broad and you were certain it shone for miles, when Pietro spoke the last sentences of the ceremony. “I now present you the Queen of Taharr and Queen of Sokovia. All rise to the Queens of the Great Realm of Novi Grad.” 
The crowd was loud to the point you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts and you swore the earth shook when you leaned in and Wanda sealed your promise with a kiss. 
The promise of union, the promise of peace, prosperity and love. 
After all, you were the Queens of Promise.
taglist: @californianwhiterabbit, @cowxpoke
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oksana-moods · 3 months
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I’ll keep my mouth shut about her looks
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Short hair Scarlett :)
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oksana-moods · 3 months
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“What?” You asked, you were tired of fighting with her.
Natasha stood there, close to the door and you couldn’t help but think she was metaphorically deciding wether she should stay or go, all the while preventing you from leaving.
“You’re like a hurricane.” She voiced, brows furrowed and her eyes were lost somewhere you didn’t know. “Beautiful to watch from distance, but completely dangerous up close.”
“What do you mean with this?” You inquired, talking careful steps towards her. “Is this love or hate?”
The smile hanging from her mouth was obscene “I haven’t decided yet.”
Coming soon...
This bookcover was made by the darling @yourtaletotell
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oksana-moods · 3 months
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Ah you're such a dear ❤️ I'm so glad you enjoyed
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Queens of Promise - Final Part
Summary: The journey is a work of art, they say. And if to grow one needs to bleed, then you certainly paid your price. 
A/N: Writing this part was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Nothing seemed fit, nothing seemed good enough for a Last Part. There were some feelings or emotions that I couldn’t quite grasp, unfortunately, so to give you this part without stalling any further, I decided to move on with what I had. Hope you guys like it. Thank you to the ones who stayed or kept asking for the end of this story. Thank you everyone who spared a time of your life to read my work. And to the ones who shared some love, thank you.
As always, it means the world to me. 
Previous Parts here
Warnings: Game of Thrones kind of violence, language. Mentions of blood and death.
“We were the Kings and Queens of promise We are the Queens”
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Your limbs hurt, it feels like daggers are piercing through your skin with every step taken, yet you’re standing. It’s astounding.
Just like the people of Taharr, who gathered under the castle walls alongside the river shores from both sides. From your point of view they looked like ants, but there were more than thousands willing to pay their respects, their last courtesy to Queen Calanthe. The Strong Lioness.
The Lords, Ladies and other knights were allowed inside the castle walls and would attend the ceremony on the inner patio, the one with the river view.
However, you and a very selected few were in the winter garden, where there were statues of the former kings and queens, soon there would be one of Calanthe too. Too soon for your liking.
Many rivers grew or were born from a mountain of rocks, but the “Castle River” started from inside the boulders and rocks where Triskelion Castle was built in, its first appearance was, in fact, in the winter garden.
This spot of crystal clear water had a coffin boat on it, beautifully decorated with golden lionesses and adorned with chrysanthemums, your mother’s favorite flowers. They were simple - misunderstood she used to say, but they were always pretty.
Usually, the ceremony occurred on the seashore, at Pierce Coast, however, contemplating the attacks and the coup attempt, you had decided to stay and proceed with the burial in the capital, from the castle.
You knew how far you could shoot an arrow from this height and considering the winter garden stood close to fifty meters from the ground, would be a long shot. She deserved no less.
Three women covered from head to toe in full white gowns with golden lines forming some sort of pattern arrived at the garden where you stood and started to enchant their elder song.
It was always beautiful to watch, but the lines of the old druid poem touched a little too close this time.
The elder song was meant to guide the spirit to afterlife, the lines referred to the circle of life provided by the water. Every energy, every soul, everything was water. The flow of the universe.
You tried, but it was impossible not to share a tear or two as the last verse was sung. The song was about to end, your mother’s time as ruler was about to end. This was a reality that you did not want to acknowledge.
Your mother was gone.
And you were alone.
As the song ended, the men close to the boat looked at you expectantly, looking for your signal to release your mother on the river, to go down with the flow. As her boat was released, you tightened the grip around the bow on your hand.
Your knuckles hurt, but everything in you hurts, there’s nothing new.
You casted your eyes downwards, following the boat but also watching as the others knelt as it passed by, never stopping, the water flow was inexorable just as life was. 
It was painful, it was raw. It was true.
The seconds passed and your eyes burned just as your heart was, it was time for you to shoot your arrow in flames, only you couldn’t. After your shot, there was no turning back.
Maria, who stood several steps ahead, looked back at you. Even without words you knew what she meant. It was time. But you couldn’t.
She nodded, encouraging you to lift your useless arm and loose the arrow as you were supposed to. But you couldn’t.
You looked down at the fire pit in front of you, waiting to kiss your arrow and, as the flames danced, you blinked your tears away. Your hands were shaken.
“How can you shoot so far, mother?” The childish voice made the woman look down at you and she smiled that tender smile of hers.
“Practice, love.” She approached you with her bow, beautifully crafted and adorned with rubies, she extended it to you and encouraged you to hold it properly.
Now, standing right behind you, she commanded. “Take a deep breath and, as you do, pull the string with your other arm.” You did as you were told and she kind of guided, kind of corrected your movement. “Take your aim and release.”
Your movement faltered. “How do I aim, mother?” You heard a snort a second later after your question.
“Both eyes open, love. Choose your target and point the arrow at it, that’s your aim.” She instructed and guided your little hands. “Never lose sight of it. inhale, exhale, release.” Her voice was soft in your ear.
It was a little overwhelming. Only ten summers had passed for you, but your training was intensive. You wanted to play gobstones, wanted to play pass the ball, throw your hat, all the games the other kids were playing, yet, you couldn’t. Your free time was scarce as a breeze during summer. As a future ruler, you were supposed to train, study, observe, learn. There was no time for anything else.
“I can’t do this, momma.” You muttered after a second, for your arms got too stiff and shaken, you lowered them before you could loosen the arrow.
“Why not?” She inquired, never leaving her place behind you.
“My arms hurt. I’m terrible at this.” You confessed. From all the activities she requested for you to take, bow and arrow was the worst. You were the worst at it.
A second snort was heard and she squeezed your shoulder lightly. “Your arms will hurt if you overthink. Do it swiftly.” After a light tap on your chin, you turned your face to her. “And you’re not terrible, you’re afraid of failure. Don’t be.”
“What if I miss?” You blinked as she laughed lightly at your question.
“If you miss, you go and take another shot.” Her smile could light up the whole world. “Failing is to give up, so there’s no failing, as long as you try again. Be stubborn.”
At this, your face lit up like a tree during the summer festivals. “I can be stubborn!” You offered as if this was all that was missing in your life for you to accomplish your goals. Maybe it was.
With renewed interest and spirit, you turned to your target once more and pulled the string again, following her guidance as if it was a recipe.
“Don’t overthink.” She muttered behind your ear and hell, you heard her smile when you did as told. Your hand let go of the string and your eyes followed your arrow until it reached the target, almost a hand away from the bullseye, it wasn’t perfect, but you were content.
You could be stubborn.
A hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you blinked again at the arrow on your hand, begging for you to bathe it in flames and let it paint the blue sky.
“You can do this.” Carol Danvers smiled softly by your side and you clenched your jaw.
Taking a deep breath, your arm pulled the string until it reached your cheek and you could see the flame dancing on the tip of your arrow, the boat caught on your blurred vision.
Inhale. Exhale. Release.
Thousands of eyes followed as the arrow crossed the sky on that pale morning. As it flew, your heart hammered your ribcage.
You let out a low whistle when the arrow missed the boat and dived a foot away from the boat where your mother slowly and continuously flowed with the waters.
You had missed.
You had failed.
All of a sudden, you felt a light breeze hit your face and you sworn by all heavens that your nostrils were invaded by your mother’s perfume. Your lungs burned as chrysanthemums claimed the air around you.
Another light squeeze on your shoulder and, handling you another arrow, Danvers stubbornly said. “You can do this.”
Stubborn.
“I can be stubborn.” You muttered, doing the same thing you did seconds before. You lowered the point of the arrow on the fire pit and soon pulled the string until it touched your cheek again.
Inhale. Exhale. Release.
The people on the banks of the river resumed the chant started by the White Ladies as the boat was engulfed in flames. It was beautiful, it was disheartening.
As the boat sank, you retreated into the castle. Your steps were heavy, stiffy as if walking took a toll on you.
Your mother’s sun sank into the fate's waters.
Your sun had just begun its ascension.
– – –
The chill in the air could almost be touched. The Winter Garden was taken by a thick haze, yet you could still see what was in front of you.
The stone, carved to resemble the woman your mother once was, felt cold, probably colder than it should be, but you touched it, nonetheless.
Almost a moon had passed and the crafters worked non-stop until this memorial statue was ready, you were adamant that it should be before your coronation. And here you were, hours away from officially being crowned the new Queen of Taharr, in front of the last queen, seeking comfort.
“I never really gave much thought of how this would be,” You spoke to the stone, it remained immovable, as you knew it would. “But I never thought it’d be this hard.” 
Even with all the things you had to do after the last battle, known as the Battle of the Failed Coup, your head didn’t rest or stopped thinking about your mother. After a while, it became pretty common for you to speak out loud as if she was present and would engage the conversation. 
You were past the point of feeling silly, now it brought you a mild sense of comfort. It was odd, you knew, but one should work with what they got and if you had to go through your grieving, you’d do it your own way.
“How am I supposed to move on?” You asked but your words were engulfed by the fog and died in nothingness just like all the others. You felt so not ready for this, completely unprepared and the urgency only drove you a little bit closer to the brink of the edge of your sanity.
She would hate to see you stuck in the mud like you were, and you’re afraid you’re becoming everything you hate. However, day after day, the weight of your decisions and their aftermath sometimes felt a burden too heavy for your shoulders. And you hated to feel so incapable, so defeated. 
First, you thought you were listening to things, but then the unmistakable sound of shoes scraping the wet grass properly reached your ears and you knew you were not alone anymore, a person - not a ghost - was about to arrive where you were. 
“Thought I’d find you here.” Maria Rambeau's voice filled the silence after she stopped right behind you.
You ignored her choice of greeting and fired. “What have I done, Maria?” 
“I’m afraid I don’t follow, my queen.” The woman shifted, side walking to level her eyes with yours. You all but flinch at the measure, you’re still not prepared to be called the supreme ruler of Tahar. Still feeling undeserving of the title you’re supposed to bear. 
“All this time, all the lessons and I feel like it was all for nothing. She’s dead and that’s because of me. It’s all my fault.” There you were, digging deeper into the mud of remorse and guilt. You felt like a wreck, beyond repair. 
“If I may, I don’t see it that way, my lady.” Maria starts. “Queen Calanthe died a true queen’s death, fighting for her people feistily, as she always did.” She paused for a second to make sure you were listening. “Your mistakes or even Loki’s betrayal can’t and won’t diminish the importance of her sacrifice, of her strength.”
Her hands pointed to the castle you were standing on, as to emphasize her next words. “The enemy had us in a chokehold, yet Triskelion resisted, she endured and Taharr prevailed. There will be so many songs about this feature, my lady.” 
“What will I do with songs?” You retorted like a petty child.  
“Revel in them! For she’ll always be alive, in every ballad sang from a bard and in our hearts. In your heart.” She replied without missing a beat, adamant in making her point of view crystal clear.
“And now?” You inquired. Unsure to whom, if to the wind, to your friend or to the memory of your mother, you did not know. “There was so much to learn. There’s a whole kingdom waiting for me to guide them but I feel so lost.
“I don’t know if I should gather the army and seek revenge or if I should prepare for winter and reinforce the borders.” You continued your rant. “If I should reunite with the other kings to hold Hydrarr’s plans or if I should just stand here, waiting.” You balled your fists, irritated with one of the feelings inside your heart. 
Being indecisive wasn’t a trait usually associated with you. Before, you’d say that is best to ask forgiveness than living a lifetime wondering what could have been. Before, you had your mind made up and set with a plan. Before, if things went wrong, you’d just go with the flow. 
That was before. 
“There are so many decisions, so many lives depending on me and said decisions. I feel like I’m crushing with the burden and crushing even further with each passing second.” You finish, now looking back to the stone, jaw clenched. 
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Maria interjected. “I used to say these words to your mother and it is only fitting to keep saying it, because it’s still the truth.” 
Her words made you avert your eyes to your friend and there were so many thoughts running in your head, that it seemed difficult to organize or even prioritize given there was so much to be done.
Deciding on taking one step at a time, you shot. “Maria, remember that promise that you made me that you’d comply with everything I said after I became queen?” 
“Of course I do, my queen.” Maria smiled softly. “Is this the moment where I pledge to follow every single command of yours, no matter how silly they are?” She humored, not really knowing why the hell you brought this up. 
“No.” You turned back and looked at her. Your tone was so serious that you can see her forehead frowning. “I want you to be you. I want you to be my conscience… Would you do the honor of serving Taharr as High Advisor?” 
She’s taken back by your bluntness. This wasn’t small, actually, you were asking a lot of her but giving just as much. It was the second most powerful position in this Kingdom, losing only, of course, to the queen herself. “M-My queen? Are you sure?” 
“I am.” Few times in your life you felt that sure. 
She’s speechless for a moment. Perhaps trying to read the catch on your request, maybe weighing her options. 
“I won’t take shit from you if you try to play the queen card on me. If you want me to step in as Advisor, I want my voice to be heard and I don’t want blindspots.” Her face was devoid of that humor from seconds ago. She meant business and if you wanted her to take this job, there would be conditions. She wouldn’t pose as a mannequin    
“Deal.” You offered your hand for her to shake and seal the offer. “That’s exactly why I need you. I want to be as good as my mother was, and to do that I need someone to keep me on my toes.” You sighed, now deflated. “There’s no one else here to do that.”
“You are good.” She intervened. “You’re worried about the right things, everyone makes mistakes.” Maria squeezed your shoulder affectionately, trying to pull you back from the sorrow abyss you were floundering in. “We just have to learn how to pick ourselves up now. We’ll do this together.”
You nod, but let her words simmer through your head while you take a few steps until the edge of the Garden, where you could see the city below. The sun had only started to rise and the fog was slowly dissipating around you or the city. 
“Learn.” You try the word in your mouth as if a wine for you to taste. You had learnt so much in this past year. Hate. Love. Fear. Heartbreak. Grief.  
“Can I ask you something personal, Maria?” You asked, briefly glancing at your friend then looking back down, to the small buildings bathing on the first light of the day. Maria barely nodded her head to signal for you to go on, then you fired. “How did you know Carol was the one?
She remained silent for a few seconds, looking down, you knew she had heard you, for this was her telltale that her brain was working on an answer. “Do you remember when your mother created the High Guard?”
“She asked for the mightest and greatest knights from every village in Taharr. It didn’t matter their status. First it was a tournament, then the best were selected so you’d fight against each other until only the best kept standing.” You remembered, despite being relatively young. It lasted for weeks and you were mesmerized by many warriors displaying incredible techniques and skills.  
“Exactly. Carol and I were from different villages, so the tournament was the reason why we met and she challenged me in every possible way.” Maria began, eyes flashing with memories of a brilliant past, if the smile on her lips said anything. 
“In the tournament she was my rival, but after, at the sparring turns, she came with everything she had. She was marvelous indeed: strong, fast, powerful, yet, I could always find a way to counter her attacks.
“We kept our little competition, even after the tournament, even after we were both granted our current titles for bravery and skill set, but there had always been this pull between us, you know?
“I’d both hate and love that smile of hers and she later confessed she both hated and loved my bossy face. When she finally let her guard down, I saw the woman behind the title, behind the Marvelous and she was beautiful - I simply knew Carol was my person.”
You nod as if to thank her for her explanation while you stood there contemplating her words and their meaning. Eyes still cast down, you’re able to discern some dots that you knew were people, moving around the streets starting, preparing for another day. Completely unaware of your inner queries. 
“May I ask why you wonder, my queen?” Perhaps not only your citizens were unaware of the doubts clawing your guts. 
“I-.” You sighed, unsure of what words to use in an attempt to explain the turmoil in your head and chest concerning a certain princess that has already been spoken for. “I thought Wanda was the one.” You felt stupid for still giving thought to a woman who misled you. “For me.” 
Out of a sudden, you felt your back hurt again due the burden pressuring you as if to remind you of where your focus should be. It was not the time to think about Wanda. 
And speaking of hurt, you stared at the burnt mark on your hand, a last minute gift from your pal Lord Vision, as punishment for your audacity of touching Wanda in a way you were not supposed to. 
“For the first time in my life, I let myself be vulnerable and she did the same.” Your eyes met concerned obsidian orbs intently looking at you. “I swear she did and she showed me how wonderful she was on the inside.” 
Fidgeting with your hands and the hem of your tunic, you continued, eyes cast once more on the people moving on with their lives. The way you couldn’t. “There were so many flaws, Maria, fears… I loved that Wanda no one else knew.” 
A sad smile now adorned your lips. “And I hate to know she played me like a doll in a sick game. I hate to understand that I was just stupid for falling in love and believing that she loved me back.”
“You shouldn’t think that way, dear.” Turning to look at her again, you could see her eyes were soft, but there wasn’t a single trace of pity. “What your heart felt was your truth. I, myself, had a hard time believing that Princess Wanda was capable of something like this. But if she deceived you, that’s on her. She’s the one losing.” 
Her lips twitched a little, trying to give way to a small but sincere smile. “You are a wonderful person and whoever you choose to be your queen will be the luckiest woman for sure.”
You narrowed your eyes a little. Maria wasn’t one known for throwing compliments at the wind for no reason. With a slight smirk, you asked. “Are you saying this because you’re my friend?” 
She gasped, offended. “Of course not!” Then, the lines in her face turned a little less grave. “I’m telling you this because you are the Queen, my boss. Why else would I lie?” 
At her words, a laugh erupted from your chest as if a bubble wanted to set free. Your whole body shook and you could see hers did as well. 
For some reason, after this unexpected section of laughter, you felt a little less burdened, it was just tiny, but you felt a little bit lighter. 
As the laugh died down, she elbowed you lightly and called. “Come. There’s a coronation for you to get prepared for.” 
Wordlessly, you started to follow her, casually walking towards your chambers. Before your mind could travel to an unwanted, dark place of sorrow or worry, Maria’s voice found you again. 
“Have you heard your friend Aria Stark is here for your ceremony?” She never gave you the time to reply, for she completed her own thoughts. “And that her sister, aka your ex-fiancé, Queen Sansa, came as well?” 
“Oh.” It was all that you could mutter. You knew Aria should arrive soon, for she sent you a raven when she heard the news. Funny how a powerful friendship developed after you stumbled on a lost grieving girl in Braavos. 
But you were specially surprised by Sansa’s presence, you supposed she wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you, politely, declined her proposal offer. 
“‘Oh’” Maria mocked your tone. “I swear, you and your redheads.” 
– – – 
The raging storm knocked at the walls mercilessly, the thunder shook the whole castle as the lightning flashed the room alit every now and then. The fire in the fireplace danced erratically and you were surprised it still continued alive despite the wind making force through the cracks of the windows.
Staring at the cup of wine in your hand, you thought that maybe the weather was just mirroring the feelings in your chest. The taste of the wine faded from your tongue, but you could still taste Wanda’s love on your very lips. 
It was amazing, actually, how you could all but remember your time with her when confined in your chambers alone. If not sad, it would be mesmerizing the way you missed her lips and not even the strongest alcohol could numb it in your skin, in your mind or heart.
You wished you could escape the assault of memories and tender moments together, however, all you seemed to be capable of was to stumble on the ashes of your once upon a time with the northern princess. 
So much for your happy ending. 
Heavy knocks on the door broke your miserable daze and you cursed them, and entertained the idea of asking for their head on a spike for interrupting your sulking, but you assumed it’d be Maria. It would be more likely for her to have your head in one. 
Without waiting for your response, you were proven right, when she barged into the room as if she had run for miles. Her rapid breath made you anxious, for she hadn’t given you a single clue as to why she was so nervous and breathless. 
“My Queen, you won’t believe-.” She paused for air, but you hated the drama she created. There were thousands of things you wouldn’t believe in, but they were all running through your head. 
You wouldn’t believe it, but you entertained the idea of a dragon rampaging your realm. Or about flying whales passing above the city, with this storm, who could say?! Perhaps the Kree or Skrulls had organized and orchestrated a secret invasion and the city was doomed. Highly unlikely, but what if the same iced zombies that infected Westeros came to Noveria? After all, no one really knows what happens in Vormir. 
“My Queen-” She resumed, putting your imagination to rest. “Barton is here, alive. And the Black Widow is here with him.” Her eyes portrayed nothing, and you did hear the second part. Lady Natasha, your enemy’s loyalist was in your castle, the nerve. 
But you chose to focus on the first part, for lately, good news was just scarce as the leaves during winter. Your beloved friend, the one that taught you so much, the very one you thought you had lost - just another casualty to your naivety and recklessness, was back and alive. 
At least this was definitely good news and yeah, this was something you couldn’t believe in. 
You started to move around your room, gathering the minimum of clothes to be presentable before your subjects and you thought how much you have changed, a few months ago and you wouldn’t have minded if you were half naked. 
As you approached your closet, you barked at Maria. “Take Clint and Romanoff to the Great Hall. Call the cooks and bring whatever they can prepare this fast and get a barrel of our finest wine.” The High Advisor nodded and started to leave the room, but stopped when you spoke once more. 
“And for fuck’s sake send a word to Lady Laura, immediately.” A sharp nod and she fled to comply with your orders. 
The fire cracked calmly in the fireplace, giving the foolish idea that everything was calm despite the thunderstorm raging against the walls, despite the storm increasing inside your chest.
As soon as you entered, you spotted three figures standing, close to the fireplace - Maria, Carol and Sam. And another two figures seated at the table, one in front of another, eating rather fast - they were starving. 
The quietness of the Hall was violently interrupted by your heels clacking against the marble floor as you marched towards the people gathered and saw their heads rising from their meals to look at you. 
Even a few meters away, you saw Clint limping from his chair and sunk his knees on the floor, looking directly at your eyes. “My Queen.” The weight of his eyes and tone showed you his grief, his – your ruefulness. 
Before your hand could touch his shoulder, you saw Natasha Romanoff also kneeling slightly behind Clint, eyes cast on the floor and voiced. “Queen Lioness, my condolences.” The action surprises you, surely, but you’re mostly stunned because of her tone. 
It almost seemed that she meanted what she had just said, that she was indeed sad about your mother’s death, even though her Kingdom, her army, was responsible for this fact. 
Confused, you nodded. Then, resumed your previous action and pulled Clint by his shoulders, so he could get to his feet, and hugged him. 
“I thought you were dead.” You confided, voice as far from a queen’s as possible, twice as weak. “I’m so glad you’re not.” 
He returned your embrace just as tight. You knew what you had suffered, only the gods could know what this man had endured. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it faster.” And by his words you knew he blamed himself for not being here during the battle, the coup attempt. Or the burial. He, too, blamed himself for Queen Calanthe’s death. 
“You’re here now.” You patted his cheek and gave him a weak smile. You meant your words, but it still hurt, you wouldn’t deny it. 
Taking a deep breath to help you fall into the character you were supposed to play, you raised your chin slightly and directed a hard glare at Natasha, with a matching hard tone directed at Clint. “Now you want to explain why there is an enemy, a Sokovian no less, still breathing inside my castle?” 
– – – 
“You’re lying.” You hissed, for the thousandth time. You just couldn’t believe what they, especially Natasha, were trying to say to you. 
“Why would I lie?” She asked, tiredly, arms crossed in her chest. You amused the idea of putting her in chains, to make her understand her position, you even entertained the idea of taking her to her room, a cell in the dungeons, to retribute the hospitality. 
But in the end, you gave in after Barton pledged on your friendship’s name for you to listen to them, to the both of them. The only problem is that they were suggesting absurd things to a very jaded woman. 
“Oh.” You mocked confusion. “Why would a Sokovian lie, Romanoff?” You shot back venomously. “You’ve been lying this whole time! I don’t even know your reasons anymore!” At this, you threw the decorated invitation you had received earlier at the table. 
The marks of burnt and crinkles of a parchment recently crumbled in a paper ball were visible, but also visible was its content. Without even trying to hide your disgust, you started to spat the words engraved not only in the paper, but also in your mind.
“Prince Vision, heir of Hydrarr, son of Red Skull, proudly announces his marriage to Princess Wanda Maximoff, heir of Sokovia, daughter of King Django and Queen Marya Maximoff, with the blessings of King Pietro, who announces his retirement due critical illness. The ceremony will be due in two moons. This invitation is extended to the friendly realms to Sokovia.”
Taharr wasn’t, obviously, a friendly realm to Sokovia. This was probably Vision’s way of taking an opportunity of messing with your head a little further. Or, perhaps, this could be Wanda’s doing. Who knew?
Whoever sent this, did on the sole purpose of fucking with you. And they succeeded. 
Maria, Carol and Sam gasped at your words, they were just as shocked as you were. You knew about the marriage, it hurt like hell to see a confirmation, but you were completely in the dark about Lord Vision’s - now Prince Vision - origins. 
Not to mention the news about Pietro’s retirement, since when does a King or Queen retire? All the ones you knew died and their rest would be in the afterlife. What the fuck was going on?
A more rational part of your brain understood the geopolitics involved in this marriage: Hydrarr and Sokovia would become one united Kingdom, with its forces and ruthlessness combined, who knew where they’d stop? With King Pietro’s retirement, Wanda and Vision would, respectively, become Queen and King of the combined territory. 
With a start, you realized the only ones who did not bore impressed looks were Clint and Natasha. They already knew about this. And, for a split second, you almost doubted your friend. Almost. 
“And that’s a coup.” Clint pointed at the paper while the Black Widow simply wrinkled her nose as if the parchment had a bad smell. “A very well orchestrated one, might I add. They’re overthrowing Pietro.” 
Your eyes darted back to him and he continued. “I told you, Lord Vision has been contaminating Sokovia for years. Day after day, he’s working to make it more Hydrarr’s. And with this marriage? He’ll achieve it.” 
“Harv Krickitt told you this?” You asked about the man, the jeweler, who crafted the piece of jewel the Black Widow assigned to kill you had received as payment. Barely a year has passed, but it felt so, so long ago, almost another life. 
Remembering that day, that night, your eyes were hard and jaw so clenched it hurt, still, a pale contrast to the pain brought by the memories dancing behind your eyes. 
“Kricket told us Vision was the one to ask for the necklace, with the lioness’ pendant. But he was asked to deliver it to Barnes’ care.” Natasha answered, voice as if made of stone. “He killed Steve during the attack. Those men, that day? They were a Hydrarr unit, a cover up.”
“As everything so far, my queen, this was a set up.” Clint completed. And you laughed at the absurd image they were trying to paint. Inwardly. Outside it looked more like a snort that could very well be mistaken with a choke.
“You want me to believe that Pietro, that Wanda,” Your voice failed, it’s been months since you last spoke her name out loud. You tried not to show any weaknesses, but your heart still skipped a beat and you hated it. “-had nothing to do with this?” 
“Precisely.” His words were unwavering. He was certain and you seriously wondered how badly your friend had been compromised. 
If you were the older you, this thought wouldn’t have even popped into your head, because it'd be straight away unfathomable, but the older you died after facing the treason of people so dear to you. Wanda’s betrayal was a stab in the guts, for sure, but Loki’s? It killed your heart. 
So, who could blame you for asking? 
“Did you turn?” Your tone was flat, devoid of emotion. 
Across the room, your peripheral sight caught heads snapping at you or even the sound of an intake of a good amount of air. The other occupants of this room judged you had gone too far on your assumption and that this was not what someone with Clint’s reputation should hear upon returning home. 
But you didn’t care that this could offend him or even if you were calling him traitor right on his face, you were the queen, weren’t you? You were entitled to. 
To his credit, Lord Barton didn’t even flinch at your question, his voice, still unwavering. “I would never!”
Your eyes searched for his, scrutinized his soul looking for any sign of deceit but you found nothing. He was speaking the truth. 
Nodding as to show you accepted his answer, you resumed the conversation. “What are you suggesting?” 
“Vision has the Maximoff twins in a hook.” He fired back without wasting a second, if you were willing to hear him, there was no time to waste. And, as if on cue, Natasha expanded the idea started by Clint. 
“Pietro is ill, that part is true, but Vision is threatening Wanda’s life if he does not step back.” This sentence ignited a fire in your whole being, even though you didn’t know what to believe. If all of this is true or not, it didn’t matter, the idea of someone hurting Wanda made you very angry. “And Wanda has to marry Vision, otherwise he’ll kill Pietro.” 
Your head snapped at the redhead seated in front of you so fast it felt like a whiplash, at the same time, your heart rate skyrocketed to the moon. 
“You mean she hadn’t agreed with this marriage on her own?” You carefully chose your next words, you wanted to make sure your ears and your brain were not playing games with you. “Are you telling me that she won’t marry him because she wants, but obliged to keep her brother safe?” 
“I am.” Her confirmation blew the air out of your lungs. 
Alarmed, you got off your seat and retreated to the fireplace, which still cracked, unbothered by the revelations these walls have just witnessed. You tried to remind yourself to keep breathing, because these past minutes were beyond intense. 
Your head was still trying to wrap itself around the proposition the spies were presenting to you and, at the same time, your heart was trying to grasp the meaning behind these implications. 
Wanda was about to marry a man because of her duty to her brother, to protect the last blood attachment she has with her family. And if she was forced to marry him, if Pietro was not involved, then could this mean-? 
“Wanda would never betray you, My Queen.” Clint’s voice reached your ears as if he spoke from miles away, but he knew how fast your head and heart were running, he knew what sort of questions plagued your mind. “She was devastated, went berserk after she found the house you shared empty.” 
Contradictory emotions clashed on your chest and you didn’t even know what those emotions were, for there were so many. And just like that, you didn’t know what to think or what to make out of this. 
For so long, you believed and were led to believe that Wanda had participated, organized this ploy like a brilliant sociopath. You blamed her for your suffering, you hated her and called names in the confines of your room at night while tears ran free down your cheek. 
You cursed the feeling she made you feel and now someone dares to say otherwise. Someone dares to say you got it all wrong, that you were lied to and the woman you loved had nothing to do with this? 
“This is profanity.” You whispered, but somehow Clint heard, despite the heavy rain outside. 
“I’m not lying.” He confirmed, as if this was all that you needed to accept this plot twist. 
“You can’t possibly think that I’ll believe this, Clint. I was put through hell.” You cried, disregarding the others still present, you didn’t care if they saw you weak right now. This wasn’t news to them after all.
Without a word, Natasha pulled something from her battered purse and you were about to turn away again when she opened her hand, palm flat upwards, offering you its content. Your eyes narrowed due the feeble light, tiredness and to try and keep the tears from falling. 
“Wanda gave me this.” The Black Widow spoke solely to you, for she knew the others didn’t know what was in her hand nor its meaning. “She said you would understand-” And by the looks of it, Natasha herself didn’t really know what was the meaning of what she was carrying either. “and I quote ‘It’s impossible to hold back the wind”. 
It was dirty, but with a step or two you could very well distinguish the trace and pattern of a tied knot in a rope, it was unmistakable that it was the same piece of Aberdeen rope you had given Wanda in what felt like a lifetime ago. 
The memory, though, surfaced as if it was yesterday. 
Wanda watched as you absentmindedly ran a hand through your hair. “Why do I feel so tied to you?” She wondered out loud, after you settled down close to her at the cushions sprawled on the floor.
“I don’t know.” You smiled softly, offering her a cup of tea. “But if it makes you feel better, I feel just the same.” You countered and she smiled away. 
It was unclear if your answer had pleased her or not. Sometimes you felt as though you knew Wanda like the palm of your hand and others, just like now, it was as if she was a stranger that had just arrived in the room. 
Sometimes it was impossible to decipher her silence. 
After a while, she turned to you with a bittersweet smile gracing her heavenly lips. “Do you think this will last forever?”  
You were touched, paralyzed even, for you didn’t really know what she specifically meant with ‘this’. It could be the feeling of being tied or the tie itself - conversations like these with Wanda were like treading on thin ice or holding on a breakable thread. So you remained muted, waiting for further context. 
“Forever. Don’t you think this is such a strange concept?” She chuckled humorlessly. “Forever doesn’t even exist, if we think about it.” She rambled with brows furrowed. 
“Forever could last a lifetime.” You tried tentatively, still unsure of where this conversation was heading to. 
“Forever could last a whole minute.” She retaliated without missing a beat. She wasn’t even looking at you anymore, but to a fix point at the wall as if it could show her the future if she stared at it for long enough. 
“You don’t know how long your forever will last.” Now, your brows were also crinkled only your eyes were cast on the mug nested on your hands. “No one knows.” 
“What do people do, then?” You looked at her, but her inquiry seemed genuine. 
You laughed at the absurd. You had no clue about what they do with their forevers. To be honest, you didn’t know anything about this. “I don’t know. I guess, they live the best they can, nonetheless?” You supplied. 
It was so strange, because during your whole life you’ve learnt a lot of things, but no one stopped even a second to explain to you what it was to like someone. To love someone. The ‘what to dos’ and the ‘hows’ were completely overlooked as you grew up. 
Tilting your head up, as if the sky could be of any help, your eyes caught sight of a rope loosely tied to the canopy, it wasn’t big, but you took a piece with your knife and expertly started to knot it down, your skills from your time as sailor showing off, and you were highly aware of Wanda’s eyes focused on you.
You pulled the tip of the rope from both sides but the knot remained untouched, the tie was still perfectly strong, as if made of stone. Then, you offered it to her, heart pounding in your chest as if you were handing her your own heart on a silver plate. 
She took it in her hands with a tenderness yet unseen, as if it was made of glass. “This tie could last forever.” Though you pointed to the piece of rope in Wanda’s hands, you both knew what tie you meant with your words. You just hoped she wouldn’t freak out with your naive, yet brave attempt to wish for impossible things. 
You were completely conscious that a future with Wanda was highly improbable. Still, you couldn’t help but dream that the two of you would find a way and make it work. Somehow.
“Can we stop this?” She asked, but this time she stressed the last words of her sentence and moved her hand between the two of you. This time, she was crystal clear about what she meant. 
“It’d be like holding back the wind.”
You touched it with a gentleness that no one in the room judged you’d possess. It burst a fire in your chest and it was getting harder and harder to hold back the emotion slipping through the cracks of your heart. 
It was impossible to ignore the hammering thoughts shooting through your head and there were so many, so loud that you thought you’d go crazy. 
This piece of fabric meant nothing and everything at the same time. 
“I need to think.” Without another word, your fingers closed around the material and your feet stormed out of the room to collect yourself in your own chambers, so you could ruminate about the implications laid upon you this night. 
— — 
“Stop this wedding!” Lady Danvers’ voice resonated throughout the Hall. “I’ve got an objection.” She looked sheepishly to the side and revealed a sly smirk and whispered for only you and her own wife to hear. “I always wanted to say this.” 
If the moment wasn’t so daunting, you’d probably laugh or retort some snide remark, but your eyes were solely focused on the woman dressed in white in front of the makeshift altar prepared for the occasion. 
There were shocked murmurs, metal clanging against metal, for you dragged the fight from the inner gates into the main hall of the castle, where the wedding was taking place. There were voices speaking, screaming words devoid of any meaning, for your ears ignored any and all of them. 
Her eyes were locked on yours and your knees felt weak; she was a sight to behold and worship. Like a true goddess, Wanda Maximoff’s dress made her look ethereal, as if she was sent from another dimension to cleanse this Earth’s sins and her eyes cast on yours burn with something you couldn’t know.
The contrast of white and red, from her auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, was mesmerizing and it only made it difficult for you to think coherently. For a whole second you forgot where you were and what you should be doing. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” Vision shot his hand to his sword, but with one look he realized he was outnumbered. 
A sly smirk crossed your lips, tongue as sharp as usual. “Well, you did send me the invitation, have you not?” With a start, you realized that your sarcastic self hadn’t vanished for good. 
You could make anyone mad with only a couple of words. And, oh, Prince Vision red with anger was one of your favorite sports. Just like he was. 
“You’re invading my castle!” His voice boomed throughout the room, in a futile attempt to intimidate and stop your advance. Poor him. 
“Last time I checked this was Maximoff’s.” You provoked, walking towards his direction, with the conviction that his goons would know better than to come your way. You were a woman on a mission and they wouldn’t stand a chance. 
In fact, there weren’t many goons available anymore. Rumlow was dead after all, and Natasha had her dagger dangerously close to Bucky’s throat rendering him immovable. And the others… Well, they wouldn’t dare to cross paths with you right now. 
Drawing his sword, Vision took one step towards you, but you could see that this action was just an automatic response, for his eyes darting around told you his head was running all the possible outcomes and, more importantly, how he’d get away from this. 
He wouldn’t. 
You were adamant in making him pay for every single word, or minute he made you suffer. For every lie, every single action and all the blood shared that he was responsible for. Especially your mother’s. Oh, you’d make sure he’d pay. 
“One shouldn’t draw a sword if not ready to bathe in blood.” Your words were marked by each step you took, hand with a tight grip on your own sword. To be honest, it looked like he wanted to try his chances with jumping from the window instead of facing you, but you had cornered him now. 
“You think I won’t kill you?” He threatened, lifting his sword so it’d be between you. Perhaps in his head this could make you stop.
It wouldn’t. 
“Will you try it by yourself or will you ask someone else to do what you can’t?” You jabbed back, but remained immovable only a few steps away from him. You were ready to take matters into your own hands, you were ready to go to hell and back. 
However you were a queen, threatening a prince under another king’s roof. Again, the older you, would be hands deep into Vision’s throat squeezing the life out of him, but your new version knew better. This was not your castle, nor your land. 
No matter how much this man had made you suffer, no matter how many crimes he committed to you and to your people. This was still Sokovia, another man’s realm, there were rules and you should step down on shedding blood at your will.
“You should surrender, Vision.” King Pietro rose to his feet, taking the cue from your pause. It was visible how this illness had an effect on him even though he was trying to be tough. 
The man, on the other hand, decided to ignore this modest warning and took another step, ready to clash his sword on yours, but before he could, another blade appeared under his chin, kissing the skin on his throat which made him stop in his tracks. 
Perhaps Wanda had that sword under her dress this whole time, perhaps she took from some random guard around her. In fact, it didn’t matter where that blade came from, because her intentions were clear and menace was evident in every inch of her being. 
“You’ll do what you were told.” Not that it was needed, but her eyes screamed danger. Vision could be many things, but he wasn’t crazy enough to ignore the threat underlining her words. “You’ll abide to the King’s order.” 
Visibly cornered and defeated, the prince dropped his sword and looked up with a sorrowful eye, ready to beg for one of the Maximoffs for mercy. 
“Take this idiot out of my face.” Pietro commanded no one in particular, not that he needed, and two guards pushed Prince Vision out of the hall, closely followed by Clint and Carol. They certainly would make sure he’d stay locked. 
By then, all the guards loyal to Vision or Hydrarr were dead or arrested. It was the first part of the plan, designed in Triskelion: to take down Vision, they’d need to undermine his influence, take his minions to be able to weaken his power inside the castle.
The last part was the invasion itself and the dramatic wedding interruption.  
Your head was highly aware that you were needed to stop this plot orchestrated by Red Skull. After all, Taharr was one of the most powerful realms in Noveria, even though shaken, Triskelion was still a stronghold against enemies in this continent. Taharr was the only realm that could prevent this coup. 
No one else would be this effective, this fast or this invested. One could say that it was the smartest thing to do, that no other vengeance would be greater, but your heart hammered your ribcage looking at the redhead barely meters away from you. 
There was nothing else greater than the way she was looking at you. 
With a start, you didn’t know what to do now. All this time, you and your friends thought what needed to be done to stop the coup, your mind didn’t wander to the moment after it. Again, you were used to fighting, but what was expected to be done after the fight?
Even more, after those wonderful days in that cozy house, you’ve been running from her memories and the feelings she’d made you feel. You were clueless about what you and Wanda were - are. 
Suddenly, you felt a body colliding with yours and it took you a second to understand what was happening and you closed your arms around her. And, once more, it felt as though you had been locked out of heaven.  
The woman roamed her hands all over your body, your hair, assessing every single part to make sure you weren’t hurt. To make sure you were in one piece. When satisfied she rested it on both sides of your cheeks. Holding you in place. Eyes set on yours, centimeters away. 
“By the gods, please, don’t tell me you believe in him.” Her voice sounded strangled, as if trying to keep herself composed was a strenuous effort. 
“He was pretty convincing.” You replied without missing a beat. How could you think, when breathing her breath was so intoxicating? You were incapable of speaking something more elaborated and you knew she’d be upset with your answer, but Vision pulled quite the number. 
For a second, she said nothing. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on yours, letting her hands fall to your shoulder as yours instinctively found her waist. As if they belonged there, as if they have never left at all. 
When she opened her eyes, it was perfectly clear how sad she was. “I can’t even begin to imagine what he put you through.” They were so genuine that your heart clenched. “I’m so sorry. For everything.” She whispered the last part and it was hard for you not to kiss her right then and there. 
But you were a queen now and this was not your castle. You couldn’t just do whatever your heart desires. With a chaste kiss on her forehead, you disentangled yourself from her embrace and walked towards the limping form of King Pietro, only to realize Wanda had taken your hand on hers to hold as you walked. 
“Lioness, I apologize for everything Vision did and I condoned.” The man was weak, very different from the one you met in his dungeons. But he was still as regal as someone of his position should be. “I know it can’t be erased, but your presence will be appreciated during his trials.” 
Taking your nod as the only answer he’d receive, he turned to the crowd standing awkwardly in the hall, most of them without a single clue as to what had just transpired. Raising his voice, he said. “Now, I understand that there’s a feast to be served and I see no reason for us to starve.” Then, he turned to a maiden in sokovian’s colors and ordered. “Take half to the city and bring the rest for us, there’s an army to feed.” 
– – – 
You looked up to the sky and tried to spot any cloud but there was none. It was so impressive, because you swore you have never seen this shade of blue, it was as if the sky had been painted. 
Wanda had told you that this was a rare occurrence during winter, but it was a welcome change to the permanent gray, common for the colder season. Also, she said that if the blue showed up more than once in a week, then it meant that spring was slowly lurching towards Sokovia. 
It was the second time you were mesmerized by this impressive color and beauty. Surely spring was on its way. 
Ironic, you thought. 
‘I’ve learned to let myself get cut to always return whole with spring’. You felt as if you could hear your mother speaking these exact words to you. You felt as if you were a whole new person and somehow, these words made more sense now than ever. 
It had been a rough winter. Metaphorical and not. The weather proved to be a ruthless enemy, without mercy, it wiped the crops, farms and you thanked the gods for the crown’s reserve, so there was food enough to aid the whole kingdom. 
And, as a matter of speaking, your winter was just as hard. Funny to think you used to complain about all the training and study you had received when younger, because right now, you felt as though you should have been pushed harder. 
Mastering all weapons, learning numbers and languages, geography and geopolitics, religion and history, nothing really gave you the mere idea of how to bear the weight of a crown. The younger lioness couldn’t even grasp the importance or the challenges a ruler would experience. 
Granted, as the days passed by, you understood what you should do and knew what variables you were supposed to think of before making a decision. But nothing, and you do mean nothing, prepared you to understand that there is no right move. 
People will get hurt, people will suffer. No matter what you choose, there will always be consequences. The trick is to look for the lesser of two evils and accept what you can’t change. It was this trick that you struggled the most, though. 
It was ironic, indeed, how much you have grown after your trim. After your mother’s death, Loki’s betrayal and even Wanda’s, even though it was just another ruse, you had felt that, mourned that love, after all of these cuts and trims, you didn’t even know you could endure this much. 
Life took so much from you, yet, here you were. Still standing. 
Persevering. 
Just another irony, if someone asked you, because that's what Pietro had said to you earlier in the meeting: ‘Spring is life persevering after a long winter.’ And you agreed. 
Your philosophical moment was cut short with the arrival of no one other than Wanda. Her perfume announced her presence seconds before her hands found your back as she slid them until she was hugging you from behind. You snacked your arms around hers and closed your eyes for a moment, savoring her warmth, her scent, her company. 
Right after the wedding-stopping thing, you learnt that Wanda basically became your shadow. Wherever you went, she was probably following not far behind. Unconsciously, she was probably scared of losing you again if she let you out of her sight. 
And there was a shift in your relationship after the very much needed, long and exhaustive conversation about everything that transpired since that morning she left you in that house. Your point of view and hers. 
It was hard. She had cried and you had cried, it was obvious that she was blaming herself for basically everything you had suffered. It was unfair for her to think like this, but she was adamant. And you knew, deep down, she was sad you had doubted her. 
However, there was nothing that could be done on that matter. It was in the past. 
With a kiss on your cheek, she let go of your waist and stepped to the side so she could take a look at you. Basking in the sun like this, she felt as though you were an angel sent from above. 
You and your army saved her kingdom from certain doom. Funny, though, for Wanda never saw herself as a damsel in distress kind of princess, but her own and her people’s freedom was a gift, delivered by your hands. 
“Pietro said you wanted to talk to me?” She started, tilting her head to the side in evident curiosity. When you left her this morning after breakfast because you had a meeting with her brother, she was quite surprised. Not that you two didn’t bode well, but because she wasn’t invited. 
In fact, she was told to not interrupt. 
“Yes. Thank you for coming.” You said, turning your body so now you were facing her, the balcony serving as a body support. “I was wondering if you’d take me on that horse ride to see the waterfalls?” 
She smiled softly, her curious self giving way to the old Wanda who wouldn’t stop talking about the amazing waterfalls close to the castle. She thought about how endering you were right now, asking for her to fulfill a promise she never imagined would really become true. 
“Say no more.” She grabbed your hand and fled the room. Not long till you were each on a horseback, riding to one of her favorite places in the world. 
The ride to Ms Marvel waterfall was barely an hour long, but perpassing through fields, trees and the most beautiful sightseeing rivers. It was so pretty, so particular, that you felt as though you were walking inside Wanda’s memories, for she had described this place over and over. 
The moment you set foot on your destination, you realized how thoroughly Wanda had been when speaking about this place. Every single pebble, rock, grass and the magnificent waterfall was just as she painted with words. 
It was beautiful and magical. 
Despite the weather, you shed your clothes and jumped into the cristaline water, followed suit by the princess. The redhead, however, was far more used to the cold waters than you were, but you always liked cold baths. 
This one felt as though you were being cleansed. It was welcoming. 
As Wanda swum towards you, it was easy to see a soft smile gracing her lips and a predatory look on her eyes. Hair slick back due the water, some droplets covering her face and you wondered if she wasn’t a siren, trying to lure into unknown waters, to your demise. 
Somehow, her body was warm even though you were both chin deep into the waters and her embrace was something that you couldn’t find words to describe. And seeing this new side of her, so carefree, and not preoccupied with everything, made your heart soar in your chest. 
Surely, your relationship wasn’t exactly a secret, but it was plain to see that, right now, there were no worries about who could find out. You were not the enemy anymore, there was no war and there was no one targeting you. 
For Wanda, this was almost living her fairy tale dreams, right after emerging from her worst nightmares. First, she had lost you. She was a wreck after she realized she had not been as careful as she thought she was. 
It was no mystery to her who had taken you but much to her dismay, Vision had convinced Pietro that you were secretly invading Wolfgang, taking advantage of her innocence to demoralize his image and power. 
Wanda tried to explain to her brother, but to no avail for his mind was impregnated with lies and deceit. She tried to make Pietro understand that she loved you and though you had never used words, she pretty much knew you also had strong feelings for her, and you were definitely not using her as the Advisor had informed the king. 
It was all part of the plan. It was a mess. However, the final strike was yet his boldest. Vision pledged Wanda was impure and no one would want her as wife, but he could take this burden for the sake of their friendship. 
The nerve. 
Curious enough, things got worse when Pietro started to believe her. One day, he showed up at her door and was utterly embarrassed for not believing her, he then explained to her that he had talked to you and there were no reasons for him to think you were lying. 
Wanda’s heart broke all over, for she could only imagine how bad it must have been in the dungeons with the care of the likes of Vision and his loyalists. She was scared, she was hurt and she was desperate to set you free. 
She schemed a plan with Natasha and Clint for you to escape, but her brother fell ill, probably poisoned by Vision even though they could not prove it, and they became hostages too. On their own castle. Each of them had a sword on their throats, each of them were ready to lose everything in order to keep the other safe. 
Among all the other things, Wanda would lose the love of her life. 
“I know I never said this to you.” Your voice brought her head out of her reverie. It was even and melodic, she found herself smiling. “And I think this is so silly now, trying to mask my feelings.” She felt, more than heard you chuckling, even under the water, your whole body shook. “I love you, Wanda.” 
Her head snapped backwards so she could have a better look at your face. After all the time you spent together, she came to decipher whether you were mocking or not, yet, this voice, this tone was different. It was new altogether. 
You were older, wiser and sadlier too, she realized, you were not the Young Lioness anymore.  
“I mean it.” You finished, trying to convince her that you were not messing around. 
Realizing her lack of answer might have led you to believe she was searching your eyes for a lie, she shook her head and smiled softly. “I know.” She did believe you. She really knew, she really felt. 
You have told her, just not with words. 
You couldn’t help but lean in and capture her lips with yours. When Wanda was about to deepen the kiss, you pulled back and looked down in time to see a small pout and you smiled softly at her attitude. 
“There’s something else I want to talk to you about.” You ran your hand down her cheek, mesmerized with the perfection glued to your body. “Did Pietro say his plans for his future to you?” 
Despite the intimate moment, or position, Wanda felt a slight shift in your stance and certainly the topic of the conversation. Seconds ago you were talking about feelings and now you returned to politics. 
She didn’t not know what exactly you were talking about. Or what you really wanted to. But this question was just a preamble, that much she was certain. 
“That he desires to step down from the throne to look for treatment and healing?” She asked, head tilting to the side and she was so adorable wearing that confused look of hers that your heart skipped a beat. 
You only nodded and she asked. “Why?” 
For hours, you had been trying to think of the best form to ask her. Being blunt, straightforward as usual or perhaps with a romantic flourish, but in the end, anxiety took the best of you and you were not sure of how to do it. 
There were two Wandas. The one you were in love with, the simple woman with a heart, you usually knew what she’d do or say. But then, there was the feisty and strong princess, who will always think about her duty to her people before anything else. Even her own heart. 
And that woman? She could virtually say or do anything, she was indomable and you were irrevocably devoted to her.  
“I was thinking about what we always said…” You mentally kicked yourself for being so stupid and not knowing the right words. To be honest, you were afraid of her reply or even her decision. “About a time or place where we could simply be, where we’d have a choice.” 
A quirk of brow told you she did not understand what your words meant and you sighed heavily. Deciding to take the bandage off, you shot. “Wanda Maximoff, will you marry me?” 
She opened her mouth, but then the words hit her and you saw her eyes grasping their meaning as it sank in what you were asking. What you were really asking her. What you were really asking of her.
“How?” She asked, doubt written all over her face. 
For sure, you had hoped for an easy ‘yes’ even though you already knew it wouldn’t come. However, a how it was far better than a no.
A smart comeback made its way to your tongue, but you swallowed it down just as fast. “If you’ll step up as the new queen of Sokovia, why wouldn’t you as Novi Grad’s?” 
Her jaw dropped a few inches at your proposal and everything that would surely entail, regaining her composure after her stupor, she fired back. “Is this political?” 
She tried to disguise the hurt perpassing her being. She wanted you, but were you suggesting just a political maneuver?
“No.” You were quick to clarify. “I want to marry you because of what I feel for you. But I understand that this is not simple. Between the two of us, we can’t take one thing without the other.” 
For several seconds she looked at you and said nothing. Her eyes scrutinized every freckle, every inch of your face and eyes. You were so beautiful and she hated how much she loved you, how desperate she was for your touch. 
The possibility laid upon her was far too tempting. She was aware of her needs and duty and for a long time she wished she could split her heart from her responsibilities, but right then and there, this was her chance, your chance to finally combine both. 
It wouldn’t be needed to sever one thing from another, the both of you could take your place as required without breaking your hearts in the process. 
“Are you sure?” You were not convinced of what she was really asking. What should you be certain about? Your love, your offer or everything in between? 
“I’m sure of what I feel for you.” You replied and her eyes, once lost, finally focused on yours. A soft snort told you that this was not of her concern. Good. 
“I know, darling. I love you too, you know this already.” Her smile was soft but not more than her words. “I was just… Do you think we can reunite the realm?” She asked more directly this time and you understood her fears. 
The Golden Accords existed for a long time and there would be resistance, there would be fear, but there would also be reunion, there would be peace. And that was the very thread you were holding on. 
“In my humble opinion? You and I together can do anything.” Certainty coated every single word rolling out of your mouth and that made Wanda’s smile go wider. She always loved - after she had hated - your confidence. 
– – – 
If you squinted, her dress looked like a waterfall, cascading down her back, feet and beyond and Wanda, once more in full white, looked like a fallen angel. Her eyes, her smile… everything in her glowed brighter than a star. She was perfect. 
After your vows, Pietro took your hand and Wanda’s and laced it with a red piece of satin. It represented your bloods, your souls intertwining themselves, tying the eternal knot between your lives. 
Her smile was broad and you were certain it shone for miles, when Pietro spoke the last sentences of the ceremony. “I now present you the Queen of Taharr and Queen of Sokovia. All rise to the Queens of the Great Realm of Novi Grad.” 
The crowd was loud to the point you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts and you swore the earth shook when you leaned in and Wanda sealed your promise with a kiss. 
The promise of union, the promise of peace, prosperity and love. 
After all, you were the Queens of Promise.
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oksana-moods · 3 months
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Queens of Promise - Final Part
Summary: The journey is a work of art, they say. And if to grow one needs to bleed, then you certainly paid your price. 
A/N: Writing this part was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Nothing seemed fit, nothing seemed good enough for a Last Part. There were some feelings or emotions that I couldn’t quite grasp, unfortunately, so to give you this part without stalling any further, I decided to move on with what I had. Hope you guys like it. Thank you to the ones who stayed or kept asking for the end of this story. Thank you everyone who spared a time of your life to read my work. And to the ones who shared some love, thank you.
As always, it means the world to me. 
Previous Parts here
Warnings: Game of Thrones kind of violence, language. Mentions of blood and death.
“We were the Kings and Queens of promise We are the Queens”
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Your limbs hurt, it feels like daggers are piercing through your skin with every step taken, yet you’re standing. It’s astounding.
Just like the people of Taharr, who gathered under the castle walls alongside the river shores from both sides. From your point of view they looked like ants, but there were more than thousands willing to pay their respects, their last courtesy to Queen Calanthe. The Strong Lioness.
The Lords, Ladies and other knights were allowed inside the castle walls and would attend the ceremony on the inner patio, the one with the river view.
However, you and a very selected few were in the winter garden, where there were statues of the former kings and queens, soon there would be one of Calanthe too. Too soon for your liking.
Many rivers grew or were born from a mountain of rocks, but the “Castle River” started from inside the boulders and rocks where Triskelion Castle was built in, its first appearance was, in fact, in the winter garden.
This spot of crystal clear water had a coffin boat on it, beautifully decorated with golden lionesses and adorned with chrysanthemums, your mother’s favorite flowers. They were simple - misunderstood she used to say, but they were always pretty.
Usually, the ceremony occurred on the seashore, at Pierce Coast, however, contemplating the attacks and the coup attempt, you had decided to stay and proceed with the burial in the capital, from the castle.
You knew how far you could shoot an arrow from this height and considering the winter garden stood close to fifty meters from the ground, would be a long shot. She deserved no less.
Three women covered from head to toe in full white gowns with golden lines forming some sort of pattern arrived at the garden where you stood and started to enchant their elder song.
It was always beautiful to watch, but the lines of the old druid poem touched a little too close this time.
The elder song was meant to guide the spirit to afterlife, the lines referred to the circle of life provided by the water. Every energy, every soul, everything was water. The flow of the universe.
You tried, but it was impossible not to share a tear or two as the last verse was sung. The song was about to end, your mother’s time as ruler was about to end. This was a reality that you did not want to acknowledge.
Your mother was gone.
And you were alone.
As the song ended, the men close to the boat looked at you expectantly, looking for your signal to release your mother on the river, to go down with the flow. As her boat was released, you tightened the grip around the bow on your hand.
Your knuckles hurt, but everything in you hurts, there’s nothing new.
You casted your eyes downwards, following the boat but also watching as the others knelt as it passed by, never stopping, the water flow was inexorable just as life was. 
It was painful, it was raw. It was true.
The seconds passed and your eyes burned just as your heart was, it was time for you to shoot your arrow in flames, only you couldn’t. After your shot, there was no turning back.
Maria, who stood several steps ahead, looked back at you. Even without words you knew what she meant. It was time. But you couldn’t.
She nodded, encouraging you to lift your useless arm and loose the arrow as you were supposed to. But you couldn’t.
You looked down at the fire pit in front of you, waiting to kiss your arrow and, as the flames danced, you blinked your tears away. Your hands were shaken.
“How can you shoot so far, mother?” The childish voice made the woman look down at you and she smiled that tender smile of hers.
“Practice, love.” She approached you with her bow, beautifully crafted and adorned with rubies, she extended it to you and encouraged you to hold it properly.
Now, standing right behind you, she commanded. “Take a deep breath and, as you do, pull the string with your other arm.” You did as you were told and she kind of guided, kind of corrected your movement. “Take your aim and release.”
Your movement faltered. “How do I aim, mother?” You heard a snort a second later after your question.
“Both eyes open, love. Choose your target and point the arrow at it, that’s your aim.” She instructed and guided your little hands. “Never lose sight of it. inhale, exhale, release.” Her voice was soft in your ear.
It was a little overwhelming. Only ten summers had passed for you, but your training was intensive. You wanted to play gobstones, wanted to play pass the ball, throw your hat, all the games the other kids were playing, yet, you couldn’t. Your free time was scarce as a breeze during summer. As a future ruler, you were supposed to train, study, observe, learn. There was no time for anything else.
“I can’t do this, momma.” You muttered after a second, for your arms got too stiff and shaken, you lowered them before you could loosen the arrow.
“Why not?” She inquired, never leaving her place behind you.
“My arms hurt. I’m terrible at this.” You confessed. From all the activities she requested for you to take, bow and arrow was the worst. You were the worst at it.
A second snort was heard and she squeezed your shoulder lightly. “Your arms will hurt if you overthink. Do it swiftly.” After a light tap on your chin, you turned your face to her. “And you’re not terrible, you’re afraid of failure. Don’t be.”
“What if I miss?” You blinked as she laughed lightly at your question.
“If you miss, you go and take another shot.” Her smile could light up the whole world. “Failing is to give up, so there’s no failing, as long as you try again. Be stubborn.”
At this, your face lit up like a tree during the summer festivals. “I can be stubborn!” You offered as if this was all that was missing in your life for you to accomplish your goals. Maybe it was.
With renewed interest and spirit, you turned to your target once more and pulled the string again, following her guidance as if it was a recipe.
“Don’t overthink.” She muttered behind your ear and hell, you heard her smile when you did as told. Your hand let go of the string and your eyes followed your arrow until it reached the target, almost a hand away from the bullseye, it wasn’t perfect, but you were content.
You could be stubborn.
A hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you blinked again at the arrow on your hand, begging for you to bathe it in flames and let it paint the blue sky.
“You can do this.” Carol Danvers smiled softly by your side and you clenched your jaw.
Taking a deep breath, your arm pulled the string until it reached your cheek and you could see the flame dancing on the tip of your arrow, the boat caught on your blurred vision.
Inhale. Exhale. Release.
Thousands of eyes followed as the arrow crossed the sky on that pale morning. As it flew, your heart hammered your ribcage.
You let out a low whistle when the arrow missed the boat and dived a foot away from the boat where your mother slowly and continuously flowed with the waters.
You had missed.
You had failed.
All of a sudden, you felt a light breeze hit your face and you sworn by all heavens that your nostrils were invaded by your mother’s perfume. Your lungs burned as chrysanthemums claimed the air around you.
Another light squeeze on your shoulder and, handling you another arrow, Danvers stubbornly said. “You can do this.”
Stubborn.
“I can be stubborn.” You muttered, doing the same thing you did seconds before. You lowered the point of the arrow on the fire pit and soon pulled the string until it touched your cheek again.
Inhale. Exhale. Release.
The people on the banks of the river resumed the chant started by the White Ladies as the boat was engulfed in flames. It was beautiful, it was disheartening.
As the boat sank, you retreated into the castle. Your steps were heavy, stiffy as if walking took a toll on you.
Your mother’s sun sank into the fate's waters.
Your sun had just begun its ascension.
– – –
The chill in the air could almost be touched. The Winter Garden was taken by a thick haze, yet you could still see what was in front of you.
The stone, carved to resemble the woman your mother once was, felt cold, probably colder than it should be, but you touched it, nonetheless.
Almost a moon had passed and the crafters worked non-stop until this memorial statue was ready, you were adamant that it should be before your coronation. And here you were, hours away from officially being crowned the new Queen of Taharr, in front of the last queen, seeking comfort.
“I never really gave much thought of how this would be,” You spoke to the stone, it remained immovable, as you knew it would. “But I never thought it’d be this hard.” 
Even with all the things you had to do after the last battle, known as the Battle of the Failed Coup, your head didn’t rest or stopped thinking about your mother. After a while, it became pretty common for you to speak out loud as if she was present and would engage the conversation. 
You were past the point of feeling silly, now it brought you a mild sense of comfort. It was odd, you knew, but one should work with what they got and if you had to go through your grieving, you’d do it your own way.
“How am I supposed to move on?” You asked but your words were engulfed by the fog and died in nothingness just like all the others. You felt so not ready for this, completely unprepared and the urgency only drove you a little bit closer to the brink of the edge of your sanity.
She would hate to see you stuck in the mud like you were, and you’re afraid you’re becoming everything you hate. However, day after day, the weight of your decisions and their aftermath sometimes felt a burden too heavy for your shoulders. And you hated to feel so incapable, so defeated. 
First, you thought you were listening to things, but then the unmistakable sound of shoes scraping the wet grass properly reached your ears and you knew you were not alone anymore, a person - not a ghost - was about to arrive where you were. 
“Thought I’d find you here.” Maria Rambeau's voice filled the silence after she stopped right behind you.
You ignored her choice of greeting and fired. “What have I done, Maria?” 
“I’m afraid I don’t follow, my queen.” The woman shifted, side walking to level her eyes with yours. You all but flinch at the measure, you’re still not prepared to be called the supreme ruler of Tahar. Still feeling undeserving of the title you’re supposed to bear. 
“All this time, all the lessons and I feel like it was all for nothing. She’s dead and that’s because of me. It’s all my fault.” There you were, digging deeper into the mud of remorse and guilt. You felt like a wreck, beyond repair. 
“If I may, I don’t see it that way, my lady.” Maria starts. “Queen Calanthe died a true queen’s death, fighting for her people feistily, as she always did.” She paused for a second to make sure you were listening. “Your mistakes or even Loki’s betrayal can’t and won’t diminish the importance of her sacrifice, of her strength.”
Her hands pointed to the castle you were standing on, as to emphasize her next words. “The enemy had us in a chokehold, yet Triskelion resisted, she endured and Taharr prevailed. There will be so many songs about this feature, my lady.” 
“What will I do with songs?” You retorted like a petty child.  
“Revel in them! For she’ll always be alive, in every ballad sang from a bard and in our hearts. In your heart.” She replied without missing a beat, adamant in making her point of view crystal clear.
“And now?” You inquired. Unsure to whom, if to the wind, to your friend or to the memory of your mother, you did not know. “There was so much to learn. There’s a whole kingdom waiting for me to guide them but I feel so lost.
“I don’t know if I should gather the army and seek revenge or if I should prepare for winter and reinforce the borders.” You continued your rant. “If I should reunite with the other kings to hold Hydrarr’s plans or if I should just stand here, waiting.” You balled your fists, irritated with one of the feelings inside your heart. 
Being indecisive wasn’t a trait usually associated with you. Before, you’d say that is best to ask forgiveness than living a lifetime wondering what could have been. Before, you had your mind made up and set with a plan. Before, if things went wrong, you’d just go with the flow. 
That was before. 
“There are so many decisions, so many lives depending on me and said decisions. I feel like I’m crushing with the burden and crushing even further with each passing second.” You finish, now looking back to the stone, jaw clenched. 
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Maria interjected. “I used to say these words to your mother and it is only fitting to keep saying it, because it’s still the truth.” 
Her words made you avert your eyes to your friend and there were so many thoughts running in your head, that it seemed difficult to organize or even prioritize given there was so much to be done.
Deciding on taking one step at a time, you shot. “Maria, remember that promise that you made me that you’d comply with everything I said after I became queen?” 
“Of course I do, my queen.” Maria smiled softly. “Is this the moment where I pledge to follow every single command of yours, no matter how silly they are?” She humored, not really knowing why the hell you brought this up. 
“No.” You turned back and looked at her. Your tone was so serious that you can see her forehead frowning. “I want you to be you. I want you to be my conscience… Would you do the honor of serving Taharr as High Advisor?” 
She’s taken back by your bluntness. This wasn’t small, actually, you were asking a lot of her but giving just as much. It was the second most powerful position in this Kingdom, losing only, of course, to the queen herself. “M-My queen? Are you sure?” 
“I am.” Few times in your life you felt that sure. 
She’s speechless for a moment. Perhaps trying to read the catch on your request, maybe weighing her options. 
“I won’t take shit from you if you try to play the queen card on me. If you want me to step in as Advisor, I want my voice to be heard and I don’t want blindspots.” Her face was devoid of that humor from seconds ago. She meant business and if you wanted her to take this job, there would be conditions. She wouldn’t pose as a mannequin    
“Deal.” You offered your hand for her to shake and seal the offer. “That’s exactly why I need you. I want to be as good as my mother was, and to do that I need someone to keep me on my toes.” You sighed, now deflated. “There’s no one else here to do that.”
“You are good.” She intervened. “You’re worried about the right things, everyone makes mistakes.” Maria squeezed your shoulder affectionately, trying to pull you back from the sorrow abyss you were floundering in. “We just have to learn how to pick ourselves up now. We’ll do this together.”
You nod, but let her words simmer through your head while you take a few steps until the edge of the Garden, where you could see the city below. The sun had only started to rise and the fog was slowly dissipating around you or the city. 
“Learn.” You try the word in your mouth as if a wine for you to taste. You had learnt so much in this past year. Hate. Love. Fear. Heartbreak. Grief.  
“Can I ask you something personal, Maria?” You asked, briefly glancing at your friend then looking back down, to the small buildings bathing on the first light of the day. Maria barely nodded her head to signal for you to go on, then you fired. “How did you know Carol was the one?
She remained silent for a few seconds, looking down, you knew she had heard you, for this was her telltale that her brain was working on an answer. “Do you remember when your mother created the High Guard?”
“She asked for the mightest and greatest knights from every village in Taharr. It didn’t matter their status. First it was a tournament, then the best were selected so you’d fight against each other until only the best kept standing.” You remembered, despite being relatively young. It lasted for weeks and you were mesmerized by many warriors displaying incredible techniques and skills.  
“Exactly. Carol and I were from different villages, so the tournament was the reason why we met and she challenged me in every possible way.” Maria began, eyes flashing with memories of a brilliant past, if the smile on her lips said anything. 
“In the tournament she was my rival, but after, at the sparring turns, she came with everything she had. She was marvelous indeed: strong, fast, powerful, yet, I could always find a way to counter her attacks.
“We kept our little competition, even after the tournament, even after we were both granted our current titles for bravery and skill set, but there had always been this pull between us, you know?
“I’d both hate and love that smile of hers and she later confessed she both hated and loved my bossy face. When she finally let her guard down, I saw the woman behind the title, behind the Marvelous and she was beautiful - I simply knew Carol was my person.”
You nod as if to thank her for her explanation while you stood there contemplating her words and their meaning. Eyes still cast down, you’re able to discern some dots that you knew were people, moving around the streets starting, preparing for another day. Completely unaware of your inner queries. 
“May I ask why you wonder, my queen?” Perhaps not only your citizens were unaware of the doubts clawing your guts. 
“I-.” You sighed, unsure of what words to use in an attempt to explain the turmoil in your head and chest concerning a certain princess that has already been spoken for. “I thought Wanda was the one.” You felt stupid for still giving thought to a woman who misled you. “For me.” 
Out of a sudden, you felt your back hurt again due the burden pressuring you as if to remind you of where your focus should be. It was not the time to think about Wanda. 
And speaking of hurt, you stared at the burnt mark on your hand, a last minute gift from your pal Lord Vision, as punishment for your audacity of touching Wanda in a way you were not supposed to. 
“For the first time in my life, I let myself be vulnerable and she did the same.” Your eyes met concerned obsidian orbs intently looking at you. “I swear she did and she showed me how wonderful she was on the inside.” 
Fidgeting with your hands and the hem of your tunic, you continued, eyes cast once more on the people moving on with their lives. The way you couldn’t. “There were so many flaws, Maria, fears… I loved that Wanda no one else knew.” 
A sad smile now adorned your lips. “And I hate to know she played me like a doll in a sick game. I hate to understand that I was just stupid for falling in love and believing that she loved me back.”
“You shouldn’t think that way, dear.” Turning to look at her again, you could see her eyes were soft, but there wasn’t a single trace of pity. “What your heart felt was your truth. I, myself, had a hard time believing that Princess Wanda was capable of something like this. But if she deceived you, that’s on her. She’s the one losing.” 
Her lips twitched a little, trying to give way to a small but sincere smile. “You are a wonderful person and whoever you choose to be your queen will be the luckiest woman for sure.”
You narrowed your eyes a little. Maria wasn’t one known for throwing compliments at the wind for no reason. With a slight smirk, you asked. “Are you saying this because you’re my friend?” 
She gasped, offended. “Of course not!” Then, the lines in her face turned a little less grave. “I’m telling you this because you are the Queen, my boss. Why else would I lie?” 
At her words, a laugh erupted from your chest as if a bubble wanted to set free. Your whole body shook and you could see hers did as well. 
For some reason, after this unexpected section of laughter, you felt a little less burdened, it was just tiny, but you felt a little bit lighter. 
As the laugh died down, she elbowed you lightly and called. “Come. There’s a coronation for you to get prepared for.” 
Wordlessly, you started to follow her, casually walking towards your chambers. Before your mind could travel to an unwanted, dark place of sorrow or worry, Maria’s voice found you again. 
“Have you heard your friend Aria Stark is here for your ceremony?” She never gave you the time to reply, for she completed her own thoughts. “And that her sister, aka your ex-fiancé, Queen Sansa, came as well?” 
“Oh.” It was all that you could mutter. You knew Aria should arrive soon, for she sent you a raven when she heard the news. Funny how a powerful friendship developed after you stumbled on a lost grieving girl in Braavos. 
But you were specially surprised by Sansa’s presence, you supposed she wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you, politely, declined her proposal offer. 
“‘Oh’” Maria mocked your tone. “I swear, you and your redheads.” 
– – – 
The raging storm knocked at the walls mercilessly, the thunder shook the whole castle as the lightning flashed the room alit every now and then. The fire in the fireplace danced erratically and you were surprised it still continued alive despite the wind making force through the cracks of the windows.
Staring at the cup of wine in your hand, you thought that maybe the weather was just mirroring the feelings in your chest. The taste of the wine faded from your tongue, but you could still taste Wanda’s love on your very lips. 
It was amazing, actually, how you could all but remember your time with her when confined in your chambers alone. If not sad, it would be mesmerizing the way you missed her lips and not even the strongest alcohol could numb it in your skin, in your mind or heart.
You wished you could escape the assault of memories and tender moments together, however, all you seemed to be capable of was to stumble on the ashes of your once upon a time with the northern princess. 
So much for your happy ending. 
Heavy knocks on the door broke your miserable daze and you cursed them, and entertained the idea of asking for their head on a spike for interrupting your sulking, but you assumed it’d be Maria. It would be more likely for her to have your head in one. 
Without waiting for your response, you were proven right, when she barged into the room as if she had run for miles. Her rapid breath made you anxious, for she hadn’t given you a single clue as to why she was so nervous and breathless. 
“My Queen, you won’t believe-.” She paused for air, but you hated the drama she created. There were thousands of things you wouldn’t believe in, but they were all running through your head. 
You wouldn’t believe it, but you entertained the idea of a dragon rampaging your realm. Or about flying whales passing above the city, with this storm, who could say?! Perhaps the Kree or Skrulls had organized and orchestrated a secret invasion and the city was doomed. Highly unlikely, but what if the same iced zombies that infected Westeros came to Noveria? After all, no one really knows what happens in Vormir. 
“My Queen-” She resumed, putting your imagination to rest. “Barton is here, alive. And the Black Widow is here with him.” Her eyes portrayed nothing, and you did hear the second part. Lady Natasha, your enemy’s loyalist was in your castle, the nerve. 
But you chose to focus on the first part, for lately, good news was just scarce as the leaves during winter. Your beloved friend, the one that taught you so much, the very one you thought you had lost - just another casualty to your naivety and recklessness, was back and alive. 
At least this was definitely good news and yeah, this was something you couldn’t believe in. 
You started to move around your room, gathering the minimum of clothes to be presentable before your subjects and you thought how much you have changed, a few months ago and you wouldn’t have minded if you were half naked. 
As you approached your closet, you barked at Maria. “Take Clint and Romanoff to the Great Hall. Call the cooks and bring whatever they can prepare this fast and get a barrel of our finest wine.” The High Advisor nodded and started to leave the room, but stopped when you spoke once more. 
“And for fuck’s sake send a word to Lady Laura, immediately.” A sharp nod and she fled to comply with your orders. 
The fire cracked calmly in the fireplace, giving the foolish idea that everything was calm despite the thunderstorm raging against the walls, despite the storm increasing inside your chest.
As soon as you entered, you spotted three figures standing, close to the fireplace - Maria, Carol and Sam. And another two figures seated at the table, one in front of another, eating rather fast - they were starving. 
The quietness of the Hall was violently interrupted by your heels clacking against the marble floor as you marched towards the people gathered and saw their heads rising from their meals to look at you. 
Even a few meters away, you saw Clint limping from his chair and sunk his knees on the floor, looking directly at your eyes. “My Queen.” The weight of his eyes and tone showed you his grief, his – your ruefulness. 
Before your hand could touch his shoulder, you saw Natasha Romanoff also kneeling slightly behind Clint, eyes cast on the floor and voiced. “Queen Lioness, my condolences.” The action surprises you, surely, but you’re mostly stunned because of her tone. 
It almost seemed that she meanted what she had just said, that she was indeed sad about your mother’s death, even though her Kingdom, her army, was responsible for this fact. 
Confused, you nodded. Then, resumed your previous action and pulled Clint by his shoulders, so he could get to his feet, and hugged him. 
“I thought you were dead.” You confided, voice as far from a queen’s as possible, twice as weak. “I’m so glad you’re not.” 
He returned your embrace just as tight. You knew what you had suffered, only the gods could know what this man had endured. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it faster.” And by his words you knew he blamed himself for not being here during the battle, the coup attempt. Or the burial. He, too, blamed himself for Queen Calanthe’s death. 
“You’re here now.” You patted his cheek and gave him a weak smile. You meant your words, but it still hurt, you wouldn’t deny it. 
Taking a deep breath to help you fall into the character you were supposed to play, you raised your chin slightly and directed a hard glare at Natasha, with a matching hard tone directed at Clint. “Now you want to explain why there is an enemy, a Sokovian no less, still breathing inside my castle?” 
– – – 
“You’re lying.” You hissed, for the thousandth time. You just couldn’t believe what they, especially Natasha, were trying to say to you. 
“Why would I lie?” She asked, tiredly, arms crossed in her chest. You amused the idea of putting her in chains, to make her understand her position, you even entertained the idea of taking her to her room, a cell in the dungeons, to retribute the hospitality. 
But in the end, you gave in after Barton pledged on your friendship’s name for you to listen to them, to the both of them. The only problem is that they were suggesting absurd things to a very jaded woman. 
“Oh.” You mocked confusion. “Why would a Sokovian lie, Romanoff?” You shot back venomously. “You’ve been lying this whole time! I don’t even know your reasons anymore!” At this, you threw the decorated invitation you had received earlier at the table. 
The marks of burnt and crinkles of a parchment recently crumbled in a paper ball were visible, but also visible was its content. Without even trying to hide your disgust, you started to spat the words engraved not only in the paper, but also in your mind.
“Prince Vision, heir of Hydrarr, son of Red Skull, proudly announces his marriage to Princess Wanda Maximoff, heir of Sokovia, daughter of King Django and Queen Marya Maximoff, with the blessings of King Pietro, who announces his retirement due critical illness. The ceremony will be due in two moons. This invitation is extended to the friendly realms to Sokovia.”
Taharr wasn’t, obviously, a friendly realm to Sokovia. This was probably Vision’s way of taking an opportunity of messing with your head a little further. Or, perhaps, this could be Wanda’s doing. Who knew?
Whoever sent this, did on the sole purpose of fucking with you. And they succeeded. 
Maria, Carol and Sam gasped at your words, they were just as shocked as you were. You knew about the marriage, it hurt like hell to see a confirmation, but you were completely in the dark about Lord Vision’s - now Prince Vision - origins. 
Not to mention the news about Pietro’s retirement, since when does a King or Queen retire? All the ones you knew died and their rest would be in the afterlife. What the fuck was going on?
A more rational part of your brain understood the geopolitics involved in this marriage: Hydrarr and Sokovia would become one united Kingdom, with its forces and ruthlessness combined, who knew where they’d stop? With King Pietro’s retirement, Wanda and Vision would, respectively, become Queen and King of the combined territory. 
With a start, you realized the only ones who did not bore impressed looks were Clint and Natasha. They already knew about this. And, for a split second, you almost doubted your friend. Almost. 
“And that’s a coup.” Clint pointed at the paper while the Black Widow simply wrinkled her nose as if the parchment had a bad smell. “A very well orchestrated one, might I add. They’re overthrowing Pietro.” 
Your eyes darted back to him and he continued. “I told you, Lord Vision has been contaminating Sokovia for years. Day after day, he’s working to make it more Hydrarr’s. And with this marriage? He’ll achieve it.” 
“Harv Krickitt told you this?” You asked about the man, the jeweler, who crafted the piece of jewel the Black Widow assigned to kill you had received as payment. Barely a year has passed, but it felt so, so long ago, almost another life. 
Remembering that day, that night, your eyes were hard and jaw so clenched it hurt, still, a pale contrast to the pain brought by the memories dancing behind your eyes. 
“Kricket told us Vision was the one to ask for the necklace, with the lioness’ pendant. But he was asked to deliver it to Barnes’ care.” Natasha answered, voice as if made of stone. “He killed Steve during the attack. Those men, that day? They were a Hydrarr unit, a cover up.”
“As everything so far, my queen, this was a set up.” Clint completed. And you laughed at the absurd image they were trying to paint. Inwardly. Outside it looked more like a snort that could very well be mistaken with a choke.
“You want me to believe that Pietro, that Wanda,” Your voice failed, it’s been months since you last spoke her name out loud. You tried not to show any weaknesses, but your heart still skipped a beat and you hated it. “-had nothing to do with this?” 
“Precisely.” His words were unwavering. He was certain and you seriously wondered how badly your friend had been compromised. 
If you were the older you, this thought wouldn’t have even popped into your head, because it'd be straight away unfathomable, but the older you died after facing the treason of people so dear to you. Wanda’s betrayal was a stab in the guts, for sure, but Loki’s? It killed your heart. 
So, who could blame you for asking? 
“Did you turn?” Your tone was flat, devoid of emotion. 
Across the room, your peripheral sight caught heads snapping at you or even the sound of an intake of a good amount of air. The other occupants of this room judged you had gone too far on your assumption and that this was not what someone with Clint’s reputation should hear upon returning home. 
But you didn’t care that this could offend him or even if you were calling him traitor right on his face, you were the queen, weren’t you? You were entitled to. 
To his credit, Lord Barton didn’t even flinch at your question, his voice, still unwavering. “I would never!”
Your eyes searched for his, scrutinized his soul looking for any sign of deceit but you found nothing. He was speaking the truth. 
Nodding as to show you accepted his answer, you resumed the conversation. “What are you suggesting?” 
“Vision has the Maximoff twins in a hook.” He fired back without wasting a second, if you were willing to hear him, there was no time to waste. And, as if on cue, Natasha expanded the idea started by Clint. 
“Pietro is ill, that part is true, but Vision is threatening Wanda’s life if he does not step back.” This sentence ignited a fire in your whole being, even though you didn’t know what to believe. If all of this is true or not, it didn’t matter, the idea of someone hurting Wanda made you very angry. “And Wanda has to marry Vision, otherwise he’ll kill Pietro.” 
Your head snapped at the redhead seated in front of you so fast it felt like a whiplash, at the same time, your heart rate skyrocketed to the moon. 
“You mean she hadn’t agreed with this marriage on her own?” You carefully chose your next words, you wanted to make sure your ears and your brain were not playing games with you. “Are you telling me that she won’t marry him because she wants, but obliged to keep her brother safe?” 
“I am.” Her confirmation blew the air out of your lungs. 
Alarmed, you got off your seat and retreated to the fireplace, which still cracked, unbothered by the revelations these walls have just witnessed. You tried to remind yourself to keep breathing, because these past minutes were beyond intense. 
Your head was still trying to wrap itself around the proposition the spies were presenting to you and, at the same time, your heart was trying to grasp the meaning behind these implications. 
Wanda was about to marry a man because of her duty to her brother, to protect the last blood attachment she has with her family. And if she was forced to marry him, if Pietro was not involved, then could this mean-? 
“Wanda would never betray you, My Queen.” Clint’s voice reached your ears as if he spoke from miles away, but he knew how fast your head and heart were running, he knew what sort of questions plagued your mind. “She was devastated, went berserk after she found the house you shared empty.” 
Contradictory emotions clashed on your chest and you didn’t even know what those emotions were, for there were so many. And just like that, you didn’t know what to think or what to make out of this. 
For so long, you believed and were led to believe that Wanda had participated, organized this ploy like a brilliant sociopath. You blamed her for your suffering, you hated her and called names in the confines of your room at night while tears ran free down your cheek. 
You cursed the feeling she made you feel and now someone dares to say otherwise. Someone dares to say you got it all wrong, that you were lied to and the woman you loved had nothing to do with this? 
“This is profanity.” You whispered, but somehow Clint heard, despite the heavy rain outside. 
“I’m not lying.” He confirmed, as if this was all that you needed to accept this plot twist. 
“You can’t possibly think that I’ll believe this, Clint. I was put through hell.” You cried, disregarding the others still present, you didn’t care if they saw you weak right now. This wasn’t news to them after all.
Without a word, Natasha pulled something from her battered purse and you were about to turn away again when she opened her hand, palm flat upwards, offering you its content. Your eyes narrowed due the feeble light, tiredness and to try and keep the tears from falling. 
“Wanda gave me this.” The Black Widow spoke solely to you, for she knew the others didn’t know what was in her hand nor its meaning. “She said you would understand-” And by the looks of it, Natasha herself didn’t really know what was the meaning of what she was carrying either. “and I quote ‘It’s impossible to hold back the wind”. 
It was dirty, but with a step or two you could very well distinguish the trace and pattern of a tied knot in a rope, it was unmistakable that it was the same piece of Aberdeen rope you had given Wanda in what felt like a lifetime ago. 
The memory, though, surfaced as if it was yesterday. 
Wanda watched as you absentmindedly ran a hand through your hair. “Why do I feel so tied to you?” She wondered out loud, after you settled down close to her at the cushions sprawled on the floor.
“I don’t know.” You smiled softly, offering her a cup of tea. “But if it makes you feel better, I feel just the same.” You countered and she smiled away. 
It was unclear if your answer had pleased her or not. Sometimes you felt as though you knew Wanda like the palm of your hand and others, just like now, it was as if she was a stranger that had just arrived in the room. 
Sometimes it was impossible to decipher her silence. 
After a while, she turned to you with a bittersweet smile gracing her heavenly lips. “Do you think this will last forever?”  
You were touched, paralyzed even, for you didn’t really know what she specifically meant with ‘this’. It could be the feeling of being tied or the tie itself - conversations like these with Wanda were like treading on thin ice or holding on a breakable thread. So you remained muted, waiting for further context. 
“Forever. Don’t you think this is such a strange concept?” She chuckled humorlessly. “Forever doesn’t even exist, if we think about it.” She rambled with brows furrowed. 
“Forever could last a lifetime.” You tried tentatively, still unsure of where this conversation was heading to. 
“Forever could last a whole minute.” She retaliated without missing a beat. She wasn’t even looking at you anymore, but to a fix point at the wall as if it could show her the future if she stared at it for long enough. 
“You don’t know how long your forever will last.” Now, your brows were also crinkled only your eyes were cast on the mug nested on your hands. “No one knows.” 
“What do people do, then?” You looked at her, but her inquiry seemed genuine. 
You laughed at the absurd. You had no clue about what they do with their forevers. To be honest, you didn’t know anything about this. “I don’t know. I guess, they live the best they can, nonetheless?” You supplied. 
It was so strange, because during your whole life you’ve learnt a lot of things, but no one stopped even a second to explain to you what it was to like someone. To love someone. The ‘what to dos’ and the ‘hows’ were completely overlooked as you grew up. 
Tilting your head up, as if the sky could be of any help, your eyes caught sight of a rope loosely tied to the canopy, it wasn’t big, but you took a piece with your knife and expertly started to knot it down, your skills from your time as sailor showing off, and you were highly aware of Wanda’s eyes focused on you.
You pulled the tip of the rope from both sides but the knot remained untouched, the tie was still perfectly strong, as if made of stone. Then, you offered it to her, heart pounding in your chest as if you were handing her your own heart on a silver plate. 
She took it in her hands with a tenderness yet unseen, as if it was made of glass. “This tie could last forever.” Though you pointed to the piece of rope in Wanda’s hands, you both knew what tie you meant with your words. You just hoped she wouldn’t freak out with your naive, yet brave attempt to wish for impossible things. 
You were completely conscious that a future with Wanda was highly improbable. Still, you couldn’t help but dream that the two of you would find a way and make it work. Somehow.
“Can we stop this?” She asked, but this time she stressed the last words of her sentence and moved her hand between the two of you. This time, she was crystal clear about what she meant. 
“It’d be like holding back the wind.”
You touched it with a gentleness that no one in the room judged you’d possess. It burst a fire in your chest and it was getting harder and harder to hold back the emotion slipping through the cracks of your heart. 
It was impossible to ignore the hammering thoughts shooting through your head and there were so many, so loud that you thought you’d go crazy. 
This piece of fabric meant nothing and everything at the same time. 
“I need to think.” Without another word, your fingers closed around the material and your feet stormed out of the room to collect yourself in your own chambers, so you could ruminate about the implications laid upon you this night. 
— — 
“Stop this wedding!” Lady Danvers’ voice resonated throughout the Hall. “I’ve got an objection.” She looked sheepishly to the side and revealed a sly smirk and whispered for only you and her own wife to hear. “I always wanted to say this.” 
If the moment wasn’t so daunting, you’d probably laugh or retort some snide remark, but your eyes were solely focused on the woman dressed in white in front of the makeshift altar prepared for the occasion. 
There were shocked murmurs, metal clanging against metal, for you dragged the fight from the inner gates into the main hall of the castle, where the wedding was taking place. There were voices speaking, screaming words devoid of any meaning, for your ears ignored any and all of them. 
Her eyes were locked on yours and your knees felt weak; she was a sight to behold and worship. Like a true goddess, Wanda Maximoff’s dress made her look ethereal, as if she was sent from another dimension to cleanse this Earth’s sins and her eyes cast on yours burn with something you couldn’t know.
The contrast of white and red, from her auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, was mesmerizing and it only made it difficult for you to think coherently. For a whole second you forgot where you were and what you should be doing. 
“What do you think you’re doing?” Vision shot his hand to his sword, but with one look he realized he was outnumbered. 
A sly smirk crossed your lips, tongue as sharp as usual. “Well, you did send me the invitation, have you not?” With a start, you realized that your sarcastic self hadn’t vanished for good. 
You could make anyone mad with only a couple of words. And, oh, Prince Vision red with anger was one of your favorite sports. Just like he was. 
“You’re invading my castle!” His voice boomed throughout the room, in a futile attempt to intimidate and stop your advance. Poor him. 
“Last time I checked this was Maximoff’s.” You provoked, walking towards his direction, with the conviction that his goons would know better than to come your way. You were a woman on a mission and they wouldn’t stand a chance. 
In fact, there weren’t many goons available anymore. Rumlow was dead after all, and Natasha had her dagger dangerously close to Bucky’s throat rendering him immovable. And the others… Well, they wouldn’t dare to cross paths with you right now. 
Drawing his sword, Vision took one step towards you, but you could see that this action was just an automatic response, for his eyes darting around told you his head was running all the possible outcomes and, more importantly, how he’d get away from this. 
He wouldn’t. 
You were adamant in making him pay for every single word, or minute he made you suffer. For every lie, every single action and all the blood shared that he was responsible for. Especially your mother’s. Oh, you’d make sure he’d pay. 
“One shouldn’t draw a sword if not ready to bathe in blood.” Your words were marked by each step you took, hand with a tight grip on your own sword. To be honest, it looked like he wanted to try his chances with jumping from the window instead of facing you, but you had cornered him now. 
“You think I won’t kill you?” He threatened, lifting his sword so it’d be between you. Perhaps in his head this could make you stop.
It wouldn’t. 
“Will you try it by yourself or will you ask someone else to do what you can’t?” You jabbed back, but remained immovable only a few steps away from him. You were ready to take matters into your own hands, you were ready to go to hell and back. 
However you were a queen, threatening a prince under another king’s roof. Again, the older you, would be hands deep into Vision’s throat squeezing the life out of him, but your new version knew better. This was not your castle, nor your land. 
No matter how much this man had made you suffer, no matter how many crimes he committed to you and to your people. This was still Sokovia, another man’s realm, there were rules and you should step down on shedding blood at your will.
“You should surrender, Vision.” King Pietro rose to his feet, taking the cue from your pause. It was visible how this illness had an effect on him even though he was trying to be tough. 
The man, on the other hand, decided to ignore this modest warning and took another step, ready to clash his sword on yours, but before he could, another blade appeared under his chin, kissing the skin on his throat which made him stop in his tracks. 
Perhaps Wanda had that sword under her dress this whole time, perhaps she took from some random guard around her. In fact, it didn’t matter where that blade came from, because her intentions were clear and menace was evident in every inch of her being. 
“You’ll do what you were told.” Not that it was needed, but her eyes screamed danger. Vision could be many things, but he wasn’t crazy enough to ignore the threat underlining her words. “You’ll abide to the King’s order.” 
Visibly cornered and defeated, the prince dropped his sword and looked up with a sorrowful eye, ready to beg for one of the Maximoffs for mercy. 
“Take this idiot out of my face.” Pietro commanded no one in particular, not that he needed, and two guards pushed Prince Vision out of the hall, closely followed by Clint and Carol. They certainly would make sure he’d stay locked. 
By then, all the guards loyal to Vision or Hydrarr were dead or arrested. It was the first part of the plan, designed in Triskelion: to take down Vision, they’d need to undermine his influence, take his minions to be able to weaken his power inside the castle.
The last part was the invasion itself and the dramatic wedding interruption.  
Your head was highly aware that you were needed to stop this plot orchestrated by Red Skull. After all, Taharr was one of the most powerful realms in Noveria, even though shaken, Triskelion was still a stronghold against enemies in this continent. Taharr was the only realm that could prevent this coup. 
No one else would be this effective, this fast or this invested. One could say that it was the smartest thing to do, that no other vengeance would be greater, but your heart hammered your ribcage looking at the redhead barely meters away from you. 
There was nothing else greater than the way she was looking at you. 
With a start, you didn’t know what to do now. All this time, you and your friends thought what needed to be done to stop the coup, your mind didn’t wander to the moment after it. Again, you were used to fighting, but what was expected to be done after the fight?
Even more, after those wonderful days in that cozy house, you’ve been running from her memories and the feelings she’d made you feel. You were clueless about what you and Wanda were - are. 
Suddenly, you felt a body colliding with yours and it took you a second to understand what was happening and you closed your arms around her. And, once more, it felt as though you had been locked out of heaven.  
The woman roamed her hands all over your body, your hair, assessing every single part to make sure you weren’t hurt. To make sure you were in one piece. When satisfied she rested it on both sides of your cheeks. Holding you in place. Eyes set on yours, centimeters away. 
“By the gods, please, don’t tell me you believe in him.” Her voice sounded strangled, as if trying to keep herself composed was a strenuous effort. 
“He was pretty convincing.” You replied without missing a beat. How could you think, when breathing her breath was so intoxicating? You were incapable of speaking something more elaborated and you knew she’d be upset with your answer, but Vision pulled quite the number. 
For a second, she said nothing. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on yours, letting her hands fall to your shoulder as yours instinctively found her waist. As if they belonged there, as if they have never left at all. 
When she opened her eyes, it was perfectly clear how sad she was. “I can’t even begin to imagine what he put you through.” They were so genuine that your heart clenched. “I’m so sorry. For everything.” She whispered the last part and it was hard for you not to kiss her right then and there. 
But you were a queen now and this was not your castle. You couldn’t just do whatever your heart desires. With a chaste kiss on her forehead, you disentangled yourself from her embrace and walked towards the limping form of King Pietro, only to realize Wanda had taken your hand on hers to hold as you walked. 
“Lioness, I apologize for everything Vision did and I condoned.” The man was weak, very different from the one you met in his dungeons. But he was still as regal as someone of his position should be. “I know it can’t be erased, but your presence will be appreciated during his trials.” 
Taking your nod as the only answer he’d receive, he turned to the crowd standing awkwardly in the hall, most of them without a single clue as to what had just transpired. Raising his voice, he said. “Now, I understand that there’s a feast to be served and I see no reason for us to starve.” Then, he turned to a maiden in sokovian’s colors and ordered. “Take half to the city and bring the rest for us, there’s an army to feed.” 
– – – 
You looked up to the sky and tried to spot any cloud but there was none. It was so impressive, because you swore you have never seen this shade of blue, it was as if the sky had been painted. 
Wanda had told you that this was a rare occurrence during winter, but it was a welcome change to the permanent gray, common for the colder season. Also, she said that if the blue showed up more than once in a week, then it meant that spring was slowly lurching towards Sokovia. 
It was the second time you were mesmerized by this impressive color and beauty. Surely spring was on its way. 
Ironic, you thought. 
‘I’ve learned to let myself get cut to always return whole with spring’. You felt as if you could hear your mother speaking these exact words to you. You felt as if you were a whole new person and somehow, these words made more sense now than ever. 
It had been a rough winter. Metaphorical and not. The weather proved to be a ruthless enemy, without mercy, it wiped the crops, farms and you thanked the gods for the crown’s reserve, so there was food enough to aid the whole kingdom. 
And, as a matter of speaking, your winter was just as hard. Funny to think you used to complain about all the training and study you had received when younger, because right now, you felt as though you should have been pushed harder. 
Mastering all weapons, learning numbers and languages, geography and geopolitics, religion and history, nothing really gave you the mere idea of how to bear the weight of a crown. The younger lioness couldn’t even grasp the importance or the challenges a ruler would experience. 
Granted, as the days passed by, you understood what you should do and knew what variables you were supposed to think of before making a decision. But nothing, and you do mean nothing, prepared you to understand that there is no right move. 
People will get hurt, people will suffer. No matter what you choose, there will always be consequences. The trick is to look for the lesser of two evils and accept what you can’t change. It was this trick that you struggled the most, though. 
It was ironic, indeed, how much you have grown after your trim. After your mother’s death, Loki’s betrayal and even Wanda’s, even though it was just another ruse, you had felt that, mourned that love, after all of these cuts and trims, you didn’t even know you could endure this much. 
Life took so much from you, yet, here you were. Still standing. 
Persevering. 
Just another irony, if someone asked you, because that's what Pietro had said to you earlier in the meeting: ‘Spring is life persevering after a long winter.’ And you agreed. 
Your philosophical moment was cut short with the arrival of no one other than Wanda. Her perfume announced her presence seconds before her hands found your back as she slid them until she was hugging you from behind. You snacked your arms around hers and closed your eyes for a moment, savoring her warmth, her scent, her company. 
Right after the wedding-stopping thing, you learnt that Wanda basically became your shadow. Wherever you went, she was probably following not far behind. Unconsciously, she was probably scared of losing you again if she let you out of her sight. 
And there was a shift in your relationship after the very much needed, long and exhaustive conversation about everything that transpired since that morning she left you in that house. Your point of view and hers. 
It was hard. She had cried and you had cried, it was obvious that she was blaming herself for basically everything you had suffered. It was unfair for her to think like this, but she was adamant. And you knew, deep down, she was sad you had doubted her. 
However, there was nothing that could be done on that matter. It was in the past. 
With a kiss on your cheek, she let go of your waist and stepped to the side so she could take a look at you. Basking in the sun like this, she felt as though you were an angel sent from above. 
You and your army saved her kingdom from certain doom. Funny, though, for Wanda never saw herself as a damsel in distress kind of princess, but her own and her people’s freedom was a gift, delivered by your hands. 
“Pietro said you wanted to talk to me?” She started, tilting her head to the side in evident curiosity. When you left her this morning after breakfast because you had a meeting with her brother, she was quite surprised. Not that you two didn’t bode well, but because she wasn’t invited. 
In fact, she was told to not interrupt. 
“Yes. Thank you for coming.” You said, turning your body so now you were facing her, the balcony serving as a body support. “I was wondering if you’d take me on that horse ride to see the waterfalls?” 
She smiled softly, her curious self giving way to the old Wanda who wouldn’t stop talking about the amazing waterfalls close to the castle. She thought about how endering you were right now, asking for her to fulfill a promise she never imagined would really become true. 
“Say no more.” She grabbed your hand and fled the room. Not long till you were each on a horseback, riding to one of her favorite places in the world. 
The ride to Ms Marvel waterfall was barely an hour long, but perpassing through fields, trees and the most beautiful sightseeing rivers. It was so pretty, so particular, that you felt as though you were walking inside Wanda’s memories, for she had described this place over and over. 
The moment you set foot on your destination, you realized how thoroughly Wanda had been when speaking about this place. Every single pebble, rock, grass and the magnificent waterfall was just as she painted with words. 
It was beautiful and magical. 
Despite the weather, you shed your clothes and jumped into the cristaline water, followed suit by the princess. The redhead, however, was far more used to the cold waters than you were, but you always liked cold baths. 
This one felt as though you were being cleansed. It was welcoming. 
As Wanda swum towards you, it was easy to see a soft smile gracing her lips and a predatory look on her eyes. Hair slick back due the water, some droplets covering her face and you wondered if she wasn’t a siren, trying to lure into unknown waters, to your demise. 
Somehow, her body was warm even though you were both chin deep into the waters and her embrace was something that you couldn’t find words to describe. And seeing this new side of her, so carefree, and not preoccupied with everything, made your heart soar in your chest. 
Surely, your relationship wasn’t exactly a secret, but it was plain to see that, right now, there were no worries about who could find out. You were not the enemy anymore, there was no war and there was no one targeting you. 
For Wanda, this was almost living her fairy tale dreams, right after emerging from her worst nightmares. First, she had lost you. She was a wreck after she realized she had not been as careful as she thought she was. 
It was no mystery to her who had taken you but much to her dismay, Vision had convinced Pietro that you were secretly invading Wolfgang, taking advantage of her innocence to demoralize his image and power. 
Wanda tried to explain to her brother, but to no avail for his mind was impregnated with lies and deceit. She tried to make Pietro understand that she loved you and though you had never used words, she pretty much knew you also had strong feelings for her, and you were definitely not using her as the Advisor had informed the king. 
It was all part of the plan. It was a mess. However, the final strike was yet his boldest. Vision pledged Wanda was impure and no one would want her as wife, but he could take this burden for the sake of their friendship. 
The nerve. 
Curious enough, things got worse when Pietro started to believe her. One day, he showed up at her door and was utterly embarrassed for not believing her, he then explained to her that he had talked to you and there were no reasons for him to think you were lying. 
Wanda’s heart broke all over, for she could only imagine how bad it must have been in the dungeons with the care of the likes of Vision and his loyalists. She was scared, she was hurt and she was desperate to set you free. 
She schemed a plan with Natasha and Clint for you to escape, but her brother fell ill, probably poisoned by Vision even though they could not prove it, and they became hostages too. On their own castle. Each of them had a sword on their throats, each of them were ready to lose everything in order to keep the other safe. 
Among all the other things, Wanda would lose the love of her life. 
“I know I never said this to you.” Your voice brought her head out of her reverie. It was even and melodic, she found herself smiling. “And I think this is so silly now, trying to mask my feelings.” She felt, more than heard you chuckling, even under the water, your whole body shook. “I love you, Wanda.” 
Her head snapped backwards so she could have a better look at your face. After all the time you spent together, she came to decipher whether you were mocking or not, yet, this voice, this tone was different. It was new altogether. 
You were older, wiser and sadlier too, she realized, you were not the Young Lioness anymore.  
“I mean it.” You finished, trying to convince her that you were not messing around. 
Realizing her lack of answer might have led you to believe she was searching your eyes for a lie, she shook her head and smiled softly. “I know.” She did believe you. She really knew, she really felt. 
You have told her, just not with words. 
You couldn’t help but lean in and capture her lips with yours. When Wanda was about to deepen the kiss, you pulled back and looked down in time to see a small pout and you smiled softly at her attitude. 
“There’s something else I want to talk to you about.” You ran your hand down her cheek, mesmerized with the perfection glued to your body. “Did Pietro say his plans for his future to you?” 
Despite the intimate moment, or position, Wanda felt a slight shift in your stance and certainly the topic of the conversation. Seconds ago you were talking about feelings and now you returned to politics. 
She didn’t not know what exactly you were talking about. Or what you really wanted to. But this question was just a preamble, that much she was certain. 
“That he desires to step down from the throne to look for treatment and healing?” She asked, head tilting to the side and she was so adorable wearing that confused look of hers that your heart skipped a beat. 
You only nodded and she asked. “Why?” 
For hours, you had been trying to think of the best form to ask her. Being blunt, straightforward as usual or perhaps with a romantic flourish, but in the end, anxiety took the best of you and you were not sure of how to do it. 
There were two Wandas. The one you were in love with, the simple woman with a heart, you usually knew what she’d do or say. But then, there was the feisty and strong princess, who will always think about her duty to her people before anything else. Even her own heart. 
And that woman? She could virtually say or do anything, she was indomable and you were irrevocably devoted to her.  
“I was thinking about what we always said…” You mentally kicked yourself for being so stupid and not knowing the right words. To be honest, you were afraid of her reply or even her decision. “About a time or place where we could simply be, where we’d have a choice.” 
A quirk of brow told you she did not understand what your words meant and you sighed heavily. Deciding to take the bandage off, you shot. “Wanda Maximoff, will you marry me?” 
She opened her mouth, but then the words hit her and you saw her eyes grasping their meaning as it sank in what you were asking. What you were really asking her. What you were really asking of her.
“How?” She asked, doubt written all over her face. 
For sure, you had hoped for an easy ‘yes’ even though you already knew it wouldn’t come. However, a how it was far better than a no.
A smart comeback made its way to your tongue, but you swallowed it down just as fast. “If you’ll step up as the new queen of Sokovia, why wouldn’t you as Novi Grad’s?” 
Her jaw dropped a few inches at your proposal and everything that would surely entail, regaining her composure after her stupor, she fired back. “Is this political?” 
She tried to disguise the hurt perpassing her being. She wanted you, but were you suggesting just a political maneuver?
“No.” You were quick to clarify. “I want to marry you because of what I feel for you. But I understand that this is not simple. Between the two of us, we can’t take one thing without the other.” 
For several seconds she looked at you and said nothing. Her eyes scrutinized every freckle, every inch of your face and eyes. You were so beautiful and she hated how much she loved you, how desperate she was for your touch. 
The possibility laid upon her was far too tempting. She was aware of her needs and duty and for a long time she wished she could split her heart from her responsibilities, but right then and there, this was her chance, your chance to finally combine both. 
It wouldn’t be needed to sever one thing from another, the both of you could take your place as required without breaking your hearts in the process. 
“Are you sure?” You were not convinced of what she was really asking. What should you be certain about? Your love, your offer or everything in between? 
“I’m sure of what I feel for you.” You replied and her eyes, once lost, finally focused on yours. A soft snort told you that this was not of her concern. Good. 
“I know, darling. I love you too, you know this already.” Her smile was soft but not more than her words. “I was just… Do you think we can reunite the realm?” She asked more directly this time and you understood her fears. 
The Golden Accords existed for a long time and there would be resistance, there would be fear, but there would also be reunion, there would be peace. And that was the very thread you were holding on. 
“In my humble opinion? You and I together can do anything.” Certainty coated every single word rolling out of your mouth and that made Wanda’s smile go wider. She always loved - after she had hated - your confidence. 
– – – 
If you squinted, her dress looked like a waterfall, cascading down her back, feet and beyond and Wanda, once more in full white, looked like a fallen angel. Her eyes, her smile… everything in her glowed brighter than a star. She was perfect. 
After your vows, Pietro took your hand and Wanda’s and laced it with a red piece of satin. It represented your bloods, your souls intertwining themselves, tying the eternal knot between your lives. 
Her smile was broad and you were certain it shone for miles, when Pietro spoke the last sentences of the ceremony. “I now present you the Queen of Taharr and Queen of Sokovia. All rise to the Queens of the Great Realm of Novi Grad.” 
The crowd was loud to the point you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts and you swore the earth shook when you leaned in and Wanda sealed your promise with a kiss. 
The promise of union, the promise of peace, prosperity and love. 
After all, you were the Queens of Promise.
taglist: @californianwhiterabbit, @cowxpoke
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oksana-moods · 3 months
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oksana-moods · 4 months
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To the dear people waiting on Queens Of Promise next and last update: I’m half way through and I’ll be working on the very last part the next few days. Hope to come up with something in a week, two tops!
Thank you for your patience ❤️
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oksana-moods · 4 months
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There are beautiful people out there… and then there’s Stephane Nur
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Aaliyah Amrohi being a vision under the rays of the sun 🌅
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oksana-moods · 4 months
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] // 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐤
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summary: as tensions rise between your tribe at Black Hat and the Ottos at the ranch, you're certain the killing won't end. Of course, things start to change when the Clarks join the ranch, and one Clark in particular seems to be after the same thing as you: peace.
warning/s: mentions of discrimination, violence, death and injury.
author's note: hey all! so this was a request on here about a month ago and i've been trying very hard to get it written up, but between work and being ill lol, it's been hard. Finally though, it's here! this first chapter is a lil quick-paced to get through the scenes in the show, but it slows down after this and there’s much more alicia x you scenes too. four parts to expect, so stay tuned :)
(also peep the new layout 👀)
two / three / four / masterlist / wattpad
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I was finishing eating lunch when my dad returned from his outing with a small party from our tribe. He didn't look hurt in any way thankfully, but when he spotted me, he dismissed those around him so he could speak to me privately.
"Hey, Y/N," he sighed, pulling me in for a side hug. "How are you?"
I returned the hug, curious to what he wanted to share. "I'm good. What happened? Did you get into another confrontation with the ranchers?"
The ranchers were those inhabiting Broke Jaw Ranch, owned by the Otto family, and whom had problems with us at Black Hat Reservation ever since they stole our land. Prior to the dead rising, my father and ancestors had been trying to win back the land the legal way, but legalities never worked in our favour. Now, no more laws meant resorting to the old fashioned method – violence. And that was exactly what the ranchers practiced, which made me fear every time my father left our home.
"We came across Troy and some others," my dad explained. Troy was one of Jeremiah Otto's sons – the other being Jake – who also headed up the ranch, and he was an absolute dickhead, but a dangerous one. "We warned them to stay away from us."
"You think they'll listen?" I asked.
He tried not to smile as he suddenly threw a bag on the ground from his back, and out tumbled several pairs of boots. Presumably Troy and his party's.
"They should get the hint," he answered. "And if not, they know the helicopter was us. They know what we're capable of."
I sighed inwardly, knowing he was referring to the helicopter our people had shot out of the sky the other night. It wasn't something I was particularly proud of, even if I wasn't directly involved, but it did serve to send a message. I understood why we did it, but sometimes I only wanted peace and not more violence.
"What is it?" he asked, sensing something was wrong.
I looked up at him, expression softening. "Can't we try to negotiate with them? I'm sure if we agreed to speak with Jake–"
"You know what this land means to our people," he said sternly. "The Ottos don't negotiate. Never have. Why would we try to meet them halfway?"
I nodded slowly, having heard this many times before. And to an extent, he was right. The ranchers and the Ottos were all the same, as experience had shown us. They didn't like us one bit, solely because we were different to them.
But if there was a chance at negotiation, Jake would be the one to go to. The most levelheaded of the Ottos, he wanted a peaceful solution, too. But my father didn't trust him, nor see it that way. And maybe I should've started to think like him, too.
"Sorry, I know you're right," I admitted. "I'm just tired of trying to survive, even now. I thought it would be over."
My dad frowned apologetically before pulling me in for a hug. "We're going to get our land back. And they aren't going to hurt us anymore. We've got the upper hand now, Y/N, you just wait."
I nodded, returning his hug, and tried to stop being so soft. His methods weren't always agreeable, but maybe they were necessary to winning this war.
"I'm gonna double check our security on the perimeter," he said once he pulled away. "Take care of yourself."
I offered him a small smile as I watched him walk away, before it faded and I felt shitty all over again. Deciding to get my mind off it, I went to the well to get some water, only for Ofelia to join my side and earn my attention.
"Hey, you look down," she noticed, glancing at me as she filled her bottle up. "What's up?"
Ofelia was one of our newest members of the Black Hat Reservation, someone my father saved from dying out in the desert. As I'd gotten to know her more and more, we became quite good friends and I was grateful to have her around, not really opening up to many people like I did her.
"Just thinking about all this stuff with the ranch," I admitted. "It's tiring is all."
"They should give back what they stole," Ofelia said with a sigh. "They can't get away with it, even now."
"I know," I agreed. "I just– sometimes I feel like the violence is a never ending cycle. They steal from us. We fight them. They fight us. We blow up their helicopter. When does it end?"
"When they surrender," Ofelia said confidently, and I envied it because why couldn't I think that way? Why did I have to be so soft?
I nodded, spacing out a little as I looked back to the well. She squeezed my shoulders slightly, comforting me.
"It won't always be like this," she promised. "We're getting close. They'll give it up eventually. And the cycle will end."
"I hope so," I muttered, before nudging her in the side. "Thanks, Ofelia."
She smiled. "You're welcome."
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Barely a few days later, there was a commotion out front, and by the time I'd left the diner to see what was happening, my father was stood before Jake Otto himself and a stranger he'd brought along with him, probably another rancher. All guns were pointed their way and I grew curious to why Jake had shown up. Did he want to negotiate? Maybe there was a chance after all?
"Take them inside whilst I get cleaned up," my dad ordered, flicking his hand.
Some guards ushered Jake and the girl inside the diner as I exchanged glances with my dad, ignoring the bloody apron he wore, a consequence of him beheading a pig moments before.
"You're hearing him out?" I asked, trying to hide any hopefulness, but he knew me too well.
"Doesn't mean anything," he told me, giving me a knowing look. "But we shall hear what he has to say."
I tried to contain my curiosity and eagerness as I nodded. After waiting for him to clean himself up, we both went to the diner and took a seat at the booth opposite Jake and the mystery girl. It was quiet at first, Jake and my father eyeing each other up. Then his eyes met mine and he nodded slightly in acknowledgement, to which I returned. We'd spoken a few times on occasion, but that was in the old world.
The mystery girl beside him also looked between my father and I, though with a hardened stare as if she'd already made her mind up about us. It could have been laughable considering she didn't know us, but I was too eager to hear what their proposal was to care.
"My father will never abandon the ranch," Jake started calmly, meeting my dad's eyes. "You know that."
Without faltering, my dad answered, "Then we'll feed him to the crows like Phil McCarthy." I tried not to cringe as I recalled said rancher being left to be pecked away by crows when he trespassed on our land. "Then Russell Brown and Vernon Trimbol."
Those named were all shared founders of Broke Jaw Ranch, and the number one reason we could never have our land returned to us. My father harboured enough hatred for them for all of us, and I didn't blame him, even if he sometimes let it dictate his actions.
"Russell's dead," Jake informed us. "The adobe burned."
A little pleased, my dad said, "That karma's overdue, but welcomed."
"Vernon Trimbol's dead, too," the mystery girl spoke, eyeing my father curiously.
"I hope it was a long and... painful illness," my dad said without any remorse.
"He died with his family," the girl continued, almost challengingly. "His wife, his daughter. You killed them."
I furrowed my brows, eyes studying the brunette and her absurd accusation. But before I could even think to defend my father, he spoke calmly to Jake.
"Is this girl speaking for you?"
The girl and Jake exchanged glances before Jake ignored my father's question and instead pleaded, "We need the violence to stop."
"Soon will, Jake," my dad answered nonchalantly, before raising three fingers in the air. "Three down, one to go."
"My father never did anything to you or your people–" Jake began, but this seemed to irritate my dad.
"Tell me, junior," he interrupted, "do the lies turn your stomach? Do you taste the bile in the back of your throat?"
"State police investigated this," Jake explained, "they found no correlation between–"
"Stop–" my father banged his hand on the table with frustration, "–talking. You're boring me, like you did in court. Those days are dead."
"I thought we had an understanding, even outside of court," Jake tried again, and I could see why my father was growing more angry, despite holding it in.
"I understood," my father reminded him. "When you came here with your drunk friends, I was to serve them their food with a smile on my face. Tolerate their slurs. Clean up their vomit in the toilet, and thank them for their pocket change tips."
I swallowed hard, the memories of those days returning to mind as he mentioned them. Nobody wanted to see their family belittled, but that's exactly what we had to endure from Jake's family. The peace we wanted was looking farther and farther out of reach.
"The days of the white man's courts are over," my dad told him. "Land grabs, desecrations... over. Now you have our verdict. The first humans' verdict. You must vacate our lands."
It fell quiet as Jake stared at my father, trying to read his expression. Would he finally give in? Could this be it?
"I was hoping for a parley," Jake said instead, and I should have known it was too good to be true. "A chance to negotiate and to avoid more loss."
I glanced at my dad, seeing him stuck in thought as he digested Jake's words. But this was exactly what I was after this whole time and we couldn't just let it slip by.
"Let's do it," I spoke up for the first time, earning everyone's attention.
"Y/N–"
"No, I'm serious," I cut my dad off as he tried to make me reconsider, no doubt. "A parley is good. It's what we all need. To stop the killing. To stop the cycle."
"Exactly," the mystery girl agreed, and I glanced at her with both gratitude and curiosity.
My dad paused, studying my expression, and I communicated my hope for this all I could with just my eyes. Thankfully, he seemed to understand.
"Maybe you're right," he finally gave in, responding to Jake's offer. "If a parley can spare blood... we can talk about it. After we eat."
Just on cue, Ofelia approached our booth with a tray of freshly prepared food, setting it down before us.
After sharing an awkwardly quiet meal with Jake and his newly introduced rancher friend, Alicia, the latter excused herself to chat with Ofelia outside. I watched them leave, wondering who exactly Alicia was and how she knew Ofelia, but my attention was returned to Jake and my dad as they discussed the terms of the parley.
One of our people were to be exchanged with one of theirs as a hostage – in this case, Jake – to earn each other's trust and respect the temporary ceasefire. I was familiar with this method and even ready to offer myself up, but as soon as I brought it up to my dad once Jake left the room, I was immediately shut down.
"I'm not sending you," he said in that annoyingly calm but stern voice he pulled out on his subordinates. "I've already decided it's Ofelia."
I raised my eyebrows with disbelief. "Dad, c'mon. I'm the right person for this! You know peace is all I've been preaching! I can do this, just let me! Let me be useful!"
"You are useful," he told me. "Here."
"Dad–!"
"End of discussion!" he silenced me, before closing his eyes with annoyance. "You're not going over there. Ofelia knows what she's doing. She's older."
"So, what? I'm a kid all of a sudden?" I asked rhetorically. "We both know I stopped being a kid a long time ago. Back when–"
"Don't say it," he warned me, and the hurt returned to his eyes momentarily. "Please, Y/N. Just respect my decision."
I clenched my jaw, frowning. I couldn't argue this with him, I knew it. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't hurt him, so I nodded reluctantly and left it at that.
"Good," he said with relief. "C'mon."
We joined the others outside, where Ofelia and Alicia seemed to finish up their conversation. My dad nodded to Ofelia, who approached us, seeming to know what was going to happen. After discussing the parley with her, we waited for Jake to be ready, but he seemed to be bickering quietly with Alicia on the sidelines.
"Do we have a parley or not?" my father asked impatiently, interrupting their fight.
Jake gave Alicia a disapproving stare, but nodded. "It appears we do. Alicia will be staying."
My father nodded and motioned for Jake to follow him for a moment. This was the perfect chance for me to speak to Ofelia.
"You know them?" I asked her quietly, away from prying ears.
"Only Alicia," she answered truthfully. "Remember when I told you about that family who helped me? The Clarks?" I nodded and she continued, "That's Alicia, the daughter."
I was surprised to say the least, glancing over at the brunette in question. "Small world."
"Uh-huh..."
"From what you told me about them, about her, it doesn't sound like they're like the Ottos," I said with confusion. "Why is she helping them?"
Ofelia frowned, looking down at her shoes. "We killed Travis, her family. He was in the helicopter when we shot it down."
I sighed, glancing out at the Clark girl who was standing with her arms crossed, looking like she was holding in a restrained anger. It made sense now, why she was so frustrated back there.
"It wasn't right," I said quietly, looking back to Ofelia, "but dad's stubborn. He wasn't trying to hurt anyone but the Ottos."
"Well, Alicia won't let that go," Ofelia said knowingly. "Not right now."
"But she's staying for the parley, so that's gotta be a good thing, right?" I asked somewhat hopefully.
Ofelia nodded. "She's levelheaded. Smart. She wants the same as you, Y/N. Peace. She won't wreck this, if that's what you're worried about."
I hummed in acknowledgment, studying Alicia once more, wondering if she was all of these things Ofelia was saying and more. If this was the same girl who took Ofelia and her family in when they needed help, the same girl who cared for strangers as if they were her own, then maybe all wasn't doomed.
"I have to go," Ofelia suddenly said, eyes glancing behind me at Jake and my father.
I nodded, pulling her in for a quick hug. "Be careful over there. They aren't all like your friend."
Ofelia snickered quietly. "I know." Then she met my eyes one last time, nodding in Alicia's direction. "Look out for her, yeah? She's good."
I nodded, if not for the stranger, then for Ofelia. "I promise."
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Shortly after Ofelia left with Jake and a scout, I found myself washing up some dishes in the diner kitchen as usual. My dad was showing Alicia around the place, but I didn't expect him to turn up in the kitchen with her in tow, leaving her to me.
"Y/N," he called, and I shut off the tap, turning around and surprised to see to them. "Alicia is going to be sticking with you during her time here, helping around as much as she can. Is that alright?"
I raised my eyebrows slightly, glancing at the deadpan expression of the girl in question before meeting my father's eyes questioningly. Why me? There were so many other people he could have left her with. And besides, I thought he didn't trust my instincts when it came to stuff like this.
Obviously, I couldn't argue that with him in front of her, so I simply nodded.
"Sure," I said awkwardly, before meeting the green eyes already fixed on me. "You can help me finish the washing up, I guess."
"Thank you," my dad said gratefully, before leaving the two of us alone.
"Nice to meet you," I greeted her. "I'm Y/N."
"Walker's daughter, right?"
"Yeah," I confirmed, before turning to face the sink as she joined my side. Swallowing uncomfortably, I felt the need to glance at her and say, "I'm sorry. About your– about Travis."
She furrowed her brows. "How do you know that? How– how can you even say that? It was your father's orders that killed him."
She wasn't shouting, but the anger in her voice was still present, only making me feel guilty because she wasn't wrong.
"Ofelia told me," I answered. "And I didn't want that to happen. I told my dad not to shoot the heli down, but his hatred for the Ottos runs deeper than anything else. Even me, sometimes."
She clenched her jaw, looking down at the sink, and I almost regretted bringing it up in the first place.
"What do you want me to do?" she changed the subject.
Knowing I couldn't do much about her dismissiveness, I nodded to the sink. "Start washing, I guess."
Between the two of us, we finished washing all the dishes and pans in no time, an uncomfortable silence filling the air, then I wiped my hands and spoke.
"I'm gonna go pick some vegetables from the field, if you wanna join."
"Do I have a choice?" she asked, neither bitter nor indifferent, but it still rubbed me the wrong way.
"Look, you might not like this, but this exchange is the only way to ensure peace. If this works, maybe things can finally be okay."
She quirked a brow curiously. "And you want that?"
"What?"
"Peace?"
I looked to her with confusion. "Why wouldn't I?" She rose an eyebrow judgementally, so I asked, "Do you?"
Her eyes flickered between mine, giving nothing away. "Of course. I want to be safe. I want to keep my family safe."
"So do I," I said gently.
"Then we're in agreement," she noticed.
I sighed quietly, already leading her out the kitchen. "If only it were that easy."
She mumbled in agreement as she followed me to the vegetable patch, the both of us holding a basket to collect our pickings in. Again, it was quiet between us, something I presumed would remain considering we were still 'enemies', but it didn't last long as she spoke up.
"Will this really work?" she asked from beside me.
I paused, glancing at her as she worked. "Well, if we leave them out any longer, the sun's gonna fry them and then they won't be very edible any–"
"Not this," she stopped me, giving me a disapproving look. "The parley."
"Oh." I cleared my throat, continuing to pick the chillies from the plant. "Hopefully, yeah. If your people treat Ofelia with respect–"
"They aren't my people," she interrupted firmly.
As if she wasn't a mystery already.
"Okay...," I said slowly. "Well, if the ranchers treat Ofelia with respect, a relationship of sorts can form between us and them, opening everything up to negotiation."
"And if they don't?" Alicia asked.
I gave her a questioning look. "Won't they?" When she didn't answer, I grew worried. "Alicia, is Ofelia in danger there?"
"No, no she's not," she assured me when she saw my expression. "Not with Jake. He'll keep her safe."
Feeling warm under the sun, I used my sleeve to wipe at my face and sighed. "Jake is patient, much easier to talk to than his family, but it's not enough."
"Your father isn't very patient," Alicia commented.
I smiled dryly. "My people have been patient for centuries. More than you could know, Alicia."
"I'm not going to pretend to understand what the history of the ranch means to you and your people," she said earnestly, "but I'm hoping we can find a peaceful resolution. That's why I'm here, Y/N."
I nodded, meeting her gaze. For some stupid reason, I wanted to believe her. I think I might have. She seemed different to the others, maybe because of everything Ofelia had told me of her. I wasn't sure, but I truly hoped she wouldn't disappoint.
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Unfortunately for everyone, the parley didn't last long and I still wasn't sure if it was slightly my fault. Maybe if I'd kept a closer eye on Alicia, they wouldn't have smuggled her out of there? Or maybe it was inevitable.
I wasn't sure. All I knew was one second I was telling her to get some water from the well and the next there was the sound of shooting coming from outside, along with a mini ambush of ranchers. By the time I'd grabbed a gun and made it outside, they were already driving away, a glimpse of Alicia in the backseat of their truck. And to make things worse, a few of our people were either injured or shot dead.
It angered me, but mostly I felt disappointment at the fact that we'd come full circle yet again. Alicia had seemed different earlier today, like she actually wanted this to work. So, why had she broken out of here, hurting my people in the process?
My fault for believing her, I suppose.
Of course, this didn't bode well with my dad, and understandably so. However, I certainly didn't expect him to send Ofelia undercover there, under the guise that she'd been thrown out, when in fact she was there solely to poison their militia with anthrax. As soon as she returned, that was when I found out. I worried about what was going on with her, since I didn't even know she'd left, but she was distracted.
"Ofelia, what the hell happened?" I asked worriedly, upon seeing her battered and bruised face. "Where have you been?!"
"The ranch," she answered angrily, though it wasn't directed at me. "I was supposed to make them sick. But he didn't tell me– it was fucking anthrax!"
"What are you talking about?" I said with confusion, trying to meet her flickering gaze. "Why were you at the ranch? What anthrax?"
And that's when she explained the plan, conducted by none other than my father. Except the catch was that it wasn't a little something to just weaken their militia, it was anthrax poisoning to kill as many of them as possible, and Ofelia didn't know until it was too late.
"Alicia didn't want to mess up this parley," she continued to explain. "Her mother used Troy to get her back because she was scared for her. It wasn't her fault. She still wants peace."
At this newfound information, I was surprised and also a little relieved because, stupidly enough, I still believed there was hope.
"And now her brother, Nick, is sick because of the anthrax," Ofelia finished guiltily. "And it's my fault."
I frowned, shaking my head. "It's not. You didn't know. He should've told you."
Not in the mood for my sympathy, Ofelia shrugged me off and walked away to be alone. And I only grew more frustrated at my father, ashamed at his manipulating tactics amongst his own people, all because of a vendetta.
Storming over to him in the greenhouse, I tried to keep myself calm, but it only irked me more when he tried to pretend everything was okay.
"Hey, Y/N, you okay?"
Squeezing my fists together, I stared at him with disbelief. "Seriously? Am I okay?!"
Confused, he blinked. "Is that a no?"
"You lied to Ofelia about the anthrax!"
He sighed, like this was all a mild inconvenience. "I didn't want to. But it needed to be done. Someone had to weaken their militia."
"You don't get it, do you?" I asked with a glare. "This will never end. They killed our people. You poisoned theirs. They'll just keep coming back. It's a never ending cycle!"
"And I'll keep it going if it means getting justice for our people!" he finally snapped. "If it means protecting our home, taking back our land, then yes, I will keep going!"
I unclenched my jaw, exhausted already. "Wow. I hate to say it, dad, but maybe this just isn't worth it anymore. Maybe the ranch isn't worth it."
He frowned with frustration, about to retaliate and berate me no doubt, but our argument was conveniently interrupted by the sound of shouting in the distance. The two of us ran out to see what the commotion was, only to see some of our tipis on fire, along with ranchers driving around and shooting around.
"Defence, now!" my father ordered, and I immediately ran to grab the nearest gun before taking cover.
It wouldn't have made a difference though, as soon enough, a pickup truck belonging to the ranchers began to drive away with our reliquary in tow, one that contained many of our ancestor's belongings in one place. The only rancher who knew of its existence was Alicia, considering my father had shown it to her when she was here. Which only meant one thing.
She'd told them to steal it.
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As predicted, this war was a constant back and forth and my dad was only seeking revenge, as usual. Once the ranchers had stolen our reliquary, they used it to try and negotiate peace with my father. But he was so angry that he declined and threatened them, giving them until nightfall to vacate the ranch. Instead, Alicia's mother, Madison Clark, did one even better. She offered us up Jeremiah Otto's head.
And that was how we negotiated a peace deal, where we could finally move back onto our own land, though sharing it with the ranchers.
It wasn't ideal, but if it meant no more bloodshed, and also no more Jeremiah, then my father was more than happy to accept. So, a handful of us began moving in.
Most of the ranchers seemed to accept it, but I couldn't personally be sure. I tried not to focus on that though, nor the clear divide between our people. Instead, I did what I did best. Gardening.
I was taking stock in the vegetable patches to see what was growing and what else could be planted when I heard someone approaching behind me. To my surprise, it was Alicia.
"Hey," she greeted softly.
I nodded awkwardly before returning my attention to the clipboard in hand. We hadn't properly spoken since the parley was broken, so I wasn't so sure where we stood with one another.
"So, it worked," she tried to make conversation, referring to the peace deal.
"Barely," I mumbled.
It went quiet, and if it weren't for the fact that her footsteps weren't heard, I could have believed she'd left.
"I didn't know they were going to come for me," she suddenly said, a hint of guilt in her voice. "My mother was worried."
I shrugged halfheartedly, but she felt the need to justify it, as if she cared what I thought.
"I didn't want more people to die."
Finally, I lifted my eyes to meet hers. "Nobody ever does. But when it's my people, it's just collateral, right?"
Her lips curved into a slight frown as she shook her head, and I really wanted to believe her. Desperately. Because she seemed genuine, and if she was, then this wouldn't be for nothing.
"Jeremiah is gone now," she reminded me. "This can be a fresh start."
I pressed my lips together, lowering my clipboard. "I know that. You know that. But what about the ranchers? His followers?"
"Most of them only want peace," she tried to reassure me. "They'll follow anyone who gives them a sense of safety."
I suppressed the urge to scoff. "I hope so."
"The only way to show them that is to be unified," she added.
I quirked a brow. "And how do you suppose we do that?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Work with me, not against me. Side by side. If our people see us working together, maybe they'll realise it's not a bad thing."
I exhaled quietly, impressed at her thinking. "That's a good idea." She nodded gratefully, and I continued, "But why? Why would you care? And why us?"
She ran a hand through her hair as she explained patiently, "I've already told you that I only want to keep my family safe, same as you. So, why not work together in that? You're the daughter of the leader of those the ranchers are learning to trust. They see you working with us, they'll ease up. I just know it."
It made sense what she was saying, and she'd never done anything to give me reason to distrust her. Best case scenario, we could truly establish peace. Worst case scenario, we didn't become friends. I couldn't see much to lose, so I gave in with a nod.
"Okay. I guess you're right, Alicia."
She began to smile, both hopeful and relieved. "Great. Maybe we can start with me giving you a rundown on what we're growing?"
I sighed, returning her smile, and it felt good to have a reason to smile again. "I– yeah. That would be super helpful actually."
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oksana-moods · 5 months
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It’s unfair not be able to vote for both!
AO3 Femslash Top 100: Round 3
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oksana-moods · 6 months
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Not just butch, but if you’re just a lesbian and want to win a girl’s heart over, that’s exactly what you should do. And if you already won her heart but want to make sure you keep it forever? That’s exactly what you should do!! These little things is to say “I love you” without spelling the words.
Butch/masc chivalry where you give her your jacket when she starts shivering in her dress, where you quicken your step to get ahead of her and open the door for her, or where in the car you tell her "stay right there, darling" then go around, open the passenger door and hold out a hand for her to grab
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oksana-moods · 6 months
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SAD CRYING ANGRY WHORE FOR QUEENS OF PROMISE
Thank you so much for updating, I have been needing a break from work, now all my work-related thoughts have been replaced with plans of murder, can't we just burn them all 😭
-✨
Hii dear!
I am so glad I could make you forget work for a while haha even though now you want to commit murder because of me. Well, actually because of Wanda, Vision and this escalating number of treason.
Thank you for passing by! It means the world to me ❤️❤️
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oksana-moods · 6 months
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Not me suffering while writing only to be amused by our suffering later…. All that angst?
Mission complete
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Queen of Promise - Part 10
Summary: The hell you were put through seems endless. 
A/N: To those who are still around: you are lovely. Please, make yourselves known, it’ll give some confidence and will certainly help with this detachment I’ve been feeling with writing. 
You’ll gona ask, what about part 11. I know. Well, I don’t know when we’ll see it, I’ll try to work on something the next few days, but as I said to that anon, I’m going through some work stuff and it’s draining a lot. Let’s hope for the best. 
Warning: Angst, blood, gore, torture?, mentions of death.
Previous Parts here
"Hopeless and taken"
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There was something funny about the dark. How your eyes adjust to the environment to the point that first, you are able to discern things, later you can properly see things in the dark. And then, then you start to imagine it. 
But maybe the imagination part is not related to the darkness that enveloped you in that cold stoned dungeon at all. Maybe your hallucination was due something else entirely. 
Perhaps, how you could barely feel your toes because the weather started to show or how you hadn’t properly eaten ever since they left you in this hellhole had something to do with these things you supposed you’re imagining.
Or that rat really ate something that lingered around a piece of bone long forgotten in the corner and you swore there were no other leftovers except your own flesh, it probably would be the next thing that animal was going to eat. See, it was hard to tell one thing from another in the dark. 
Also, in the dark, it was really easy to lose track of time. There were no windows, and usually dungeons are held underground, there wouldn’t be any windows, that’s why you didn’t know whether it was day or night. 
Furthermore, it’s pretty hard to grasp how much time has passed while you’re out of consciousness. You don’t say you sleep, because this way, you’d be outstretching this word and its meaning. No. It was understandable even, you know you pass out after your body gives up due to exhaustion, hunger or because you’re beaten until you can’t stand anymore.
There was a lot to say about the dark, and you didn’t like it at all, but the dark is doable. The silence though, was something else. 
It was deafening. It was maddening. 
The silence remained imperturbable. 
Except for the occasional sound of rats and mice fighting for some dirt somewhere your eyes often couldn’t reach, the sound of your chains clicking when you moved or the eventual whimper you failed to conceal in the depths of your despair. 
There was no other sound.
After a while, your heart began to process the situation you were in. Alone, thrown into a cell, all the respect due to someone like you had been neglected. Not that you expected to be treated like a princess of your status should, but at least, you supposed you should be treated fairly, at least. 
However, reality was far worse than the things you believed were fair. 
You had experienced war, fights, battles, treason attempting, riot and several other crises throughout your short life as a ruler aspirer, by the gods, you even endured to be held as prisoner before. 
Yet, nothing compared to the taste Wanda’s betrayal left in your mouth.
Maybe you were being silly, sulking into your misery instead of putting up a fight or trying to find a way out of this nightmare. Perhaps you should be doing these things, trying to turn the tide of events to your favor, however, there isn't a single bone capable of keeping going. You were paralyzed. 
Frozen in time and place, your head still insisted on wrapping itself around the last events, filled with thousands of questions that you knew you probably wouldn’t get any answer to. Have you been naive for falling in love, or have you been just reckless? 
When did Wanda decide that you were the weakest point in this whole story? Was this play obvious to everybody that you would fall for a lie incarnated in a perfect body with a beautiful face? 
Maria did warn you, though. Maybe it was obvious to everybody else except to you. 
Certainly, if you had your head in the right place, you would find this embarrassing. However, right then and there, you realized it was just sad, because to you Wanda was everything, and all she’s done was use you for her personal purposes. You were just a prey that failed running off the huntress.
Time seemed to drag itself at a snail's pace, but then again, you didn’t even know how much time had passed. For all you knew, it could be a month already. Even if you were able to count a hundred of days, you supposed your mind wouldn’t stop its assault with the thoughts of Wanda. 
It was all too impressive the way your heart still yearned for the woman, even though your feelings were shattered on the floor, broken beyond repair. Too bad something so good took this unexpected turn and the bitter taste was just another reminder of how unbelievable this was. 
How unfortunate your heart happened to be in the middle of everything.
All those beautiful moments you had shared were nothing but a ploy, a set up built on lies. And you wondered how long it would take for you to swallow down your throat the shards of your ego that threatened to choke you or to pick up the shreds of your heart poured in the wind.
The salty, ironed copper taste was the first thing your mind was aware of as it drifted back into consciousness. Usually the cold, hard ground felt like a twisted, sick embrace to your beaten body, except, you awoke on your feet, body hanging from the ceiling by the chains. 
The dim light reaching your eyes creeped from the creak between door and floor betrayed the torches burning in the corridors. It could only mean one thing. It was late and someone would be walking through these halls. Other than this, the heavy door made with iron never allowed you a simple glance of anything else. 
Besides, maybe, by the small opening in the middle that was usually closed except when the guards opened it to come and check up on you. It always made you feel like an animal in a zoo, and you supposed you were the main attraction in this godforsaken place. It was almost disrespectful the number of times they came to see if you were in the same place. 
As if you could go anywhere else.
The chains hanging from the ceiling were their first guarantee that you couldn’t move more than a foot unless they loosened it enough for you to lay down on the floor. This mercy was granted only for a few hours. 
They made sure you wouldn’t mistake your staying as an unwanted vacation in the Northern Castle. And this was definitely not your winter cabin to enjoy the glamor of the current season. You were a prisoner after all, not a guest.
And then, perhaps worse than everything else, there was the smell.
The room ricked to death, rot, and body fluids. The smell was awful. Sick. It made your stomach churn, and your vomit was a new addition to the horrid smell impregnating the walls, your clothes, skin and nose. Hell, even your brain was probably infected with this stank.
It hadn’t been long, you mused, but your clothes were wasted already, torn to shreds. Your hair clang to your head and face due sweat and blood, and you knew dirt was just another layer of your skin by now.
However, no matter how fucking dreadful your situation was, no matter how fucking awful you were feeling. Nothing would ever compare to the feeling of Wanda’s betrayal.
Right on your first day, Vision had come to your cell to gloat and brag about your stupidity and naivety of falling on their plan like a deer hunted by a huntress. Every word stung deep and deeper on your entire being, but you wouldn’t let it show.
That’s why you decided to headbutt him, which earned you the pleasant view of his face contorted in pain and embarrassment. But as the blood slid from his nose, blood slid from you too.
With an incredible amount of stamina, strength and hatred Lord James Barnes, pleasantly, whipped your back until your legs gave in and you couldn’t keep up by yourself anymore. Blood splattered on the floor, over the walls and even his face.
The wicked smirk present on Vision’s face turned into a satisfied grin once your low grunts of pain became higher, though never really screaming, he contented himself with your humiliation after you couldn’t stand on your own anymore.
Obviously, you were ashamed of showing any sort of weakness before your enemy, this was one of the first lessons you were taught when younger. The shame burned just as the wounds on your back burned with an angry fire as if your skin was boiling from inside out.
Still, it didn’t burn or hurt as much as the thought of Wanda.
The memories of your moments with Wanda Maximoff assaulted your brain mercilessly, without invitation, without stop. Nothing could erase the feel of her touch or her lips. No matter how hard you tried, though brief, your time with the Princess of Sokovia was beyond intense.
You’d experienced love for the first time. It was fast and strong like wildfire; it was only obvious that the devastation in its wake would be just the same.
You didn’t even need to be dropped in a cell to rot into oblivion to be punished because your broken heart was punishment enough. No matter how many physical assaults the Sokovians could think of it would still be nothing after what Wanda did.
Your internal whimper came to a halt when you heard the dungeons floor clicking with the sound of shoes. You weren’t aware if you were the only one in these chambers, but you knew better. This would be Vision, coming for another nice chatter.
He must be bored.
“Lioness, good to see you awake.” The man hissed as he entered the cell you were in. One would expect to be treated like someone of your status would, but this was a piece of Hell on earth. Sokovia didn’t regard the nobles as the other realms did.
Therefore, you didn’t reply. You stood there eying him with disdain, gritting your jaw and silently pleading to the gods to give you strength to not break his nose again. You could endure the pain, but you weren’t mad. Yet.
“Hm, not feeling so talkative today, are you?” Sir Rumlow snarled a few feet from you and in a span of milliseconds, your body moved so fast that one would think that you acted on instinct.
In a blink of an eye, your hands gripped the chains holding your wrists and with an unexpected force, you lifted your body and dropped your legs around Rumlow’s neck. You pressed your thighs hard against his head and the feeble lights coming from the torches allowed you to see his face turning purple due lack of air.
Lord Barnes stopped you from killing the man after he punched your ribs with the hilt of his sword. The searing pain ripped the air out of your lunges and your legs automatically left the knight’s neck and sought to support your body.
You were granted, though, with his embarrassed eyes, coughing lightly due the pressure your legs had put on his throat. You smiled lightly, taking this as little victory to your personal score of vengeance.
The good feeling was short lived, for Vision took one step closer to you, though a little more preoccupied about your fighting skills even chained to the ceiling like you were, and his smirk was on. 
You’re yet to see this man without that smirk and you knew, somehow, that he posed like that because he thinks he’s won the war.
Maybe he did.
“I wouldn’t be so smug If I were you.” His eyes darted around the place as if to indicate that there was nothing to be amused about. “You’re still in this hellhole and I can see your face stained with tears.”
His expression morphed into a mockery of a dramatical sad face, lips now facing downwards and only then you were aware that you had cried. And you hated to show another sign of weakness to the man that was exceedingly fast becoming your archenemy.
Yet, you knew so little about him.
“Why are you so sad?” He asked rhetorically and pretended to search his head for possible reasons why you weren’t feeling so super lately. The nerve of this man. 
“Is it because mommy isn’t here to clean her baby?” He mocked, then continued. “Is it because you weren’t as smart as you thought you were? Or…” His eyes went wide as if realization clicked in his head right then and there.
“Awn you truly thought she loved you, Lioness?” He laughed. He had the gall to laugh off your feelings, but you let him. “Know that in a couple of moons, I’ll have Wanda’s hand and you’ll be nothing in my memory or hers. Barely a nuisance long forgotten.” He made a movement of dismissing with his hands, but your tongue was sharper than his words.
Shrugging your shoulders, the best you could chained to the ceiling, you replied. “If you don’t mind where her hand was.” You were hurting but you would not give this man the satisfaction of seeing you broken. He’d see strength, nothing else.
However, you couldn’t deny that his words had an effect on you, you couldn’t deny that you were hurting and the idea of Wanda marrying this idiot hurt beyond explanation. Somehow, your stupid heart still hoped that this was a trick, or anything else but truth.
Jealousy simmered through your veins and stomach. Jealousy, confusion and betrayal. Was this her plan all along or did you do something that changed her heart?   
The days you shared that house with the Princess of Sokovia were magical, past perfection. There was no word to describe the woman who owned your heart nor the moments of complicity, love and tender you had experienced. Too bad it was just a lie.
It was all but a lie.
And Vision made his job to remind you of that. She had lied to you, deceived you into a ruse just so they could lock you up and request a ransom deal. It was slimier than thousands of snakes. And you fell for that.
The wedding, though, was only a confirmation that you were stupid and fell for a woman that played you around like a ragdoll and didn’t even have the guts to come down to this piece of hell and look you in the face.
What for, though? To mock you? To laugh at your poor state? Maybe it was a mercy not having her present to rub it on your face.
But what you could and wanted to do was to bring the man standing tall in front of you down, lower than where you were now. And the good thing about rock bottom was just this, there was nothing holding you back. 
“Tell me, Vision, do you taste me whenever she kisses you?” Your grin was clearly smug, you bare your teeth more like fangs ready to pierce a piece of flesh of those who dared to think that only because you were locked imagined you were tamed. Far from it.
He punches you, hard, but the anger boiling in his eyes was your prize. “Could you be more vulgar? You speak like a whore.”
Suddenly, you realized that physical pain was a solace from your internal misery. Maybe if you pushed his buttons hard enough, he’d kill you then you wouldn’t have to live with all this pain you were forced to deal with inside your heart.
A renewed salty, ironed copper taste danced on your mouth and his only answer was a blooded grin to his rhetorical question. You spat the blood on his shoes and asked another question. “Does she call my name whenever you fuck? Or does she call you babe afraid of making a mistake?”
Another set of punches and screams of anger and you could only laugh. Oh poor man, maybe Wanda didn’t love him either and she could very well be a woman playing with both hearts. If yes, he deserved it. Maybe a twisted god would say that you deserved it too.
“Stop.” A new voice was heard above the noise of fist hitting flesh and irritated mutters from Vision.
You had heard a lot about him. Official stories, reports, songs sung by bards, memories from Wanda and a lot else, but this was the first time you properly saw him.
Pietro Maximoff was a handsome man, and the stories did him justice when it comes to regal stance and beauty. He walked as if he had everything figured out just like a King should.
The knights Barnes and Rumlow bowed instantly, dropping to their knees but Vision limited himself to turn and look at the man as if he were annoyed by the interruption. He probably was annoyed. He probably wanted to kill you.
“Lord Vision, I believe I already informed you about my concerns involving our hostage.” The exacerbated formal tone caught your attention. Pietro was a king, yes. But this was a prison, he didn’t have to act all regal in a place that stank more than any sewer.
“You have, my king, I was only having a conversation with her.” He side-eyed you as if to engrave your distasteful state into his brain for later, as if this meant he had won. 
“I see.” Pietro looks at you and you expect mockery, some snarky comment but nothing comes. “Leave, please.” He demands. “All of you.” The men were ready to protest but his somber expression left no room for any argument.
He didn’t know whether you were dangerous or not. Just as you had only heard about him, he had only heard about you and to step inside your cell without an escort or visible blade told you he was brave. Or he was a reckless fool. 
“The tales credited you a few inches higher, I’m afraid.” Pietro finally says something directed at you after a while sizing you up and down.
You spat another amount of blood, that hit the floor, for his shoes were keeping a wise distance from you. “Maybe you’re confused with my sword’s size, Your Highness.”
He looks at you for a moment, then chuckles. “Ahh ever the brave cub that keeps roaring even on a leash.” Despite the grin on his face, his words dripped with sarcasm.
“Did you come here to kill me already or will you keep mocking me until I die of boredom?” Your impatience was visible. It’s been too long and no one told you what was going to happen. Except for Vision telling you he’d marry the princess.
Certainly, you wouldn’t be held in this place forever. You were too much of a precious prize for that.
Again, Pietro chuckled and clicked his tongue as if disagreeing with your idea. “You know how these things work; I can’t kill you. You’re too valuable.” He patronized and you wished he was closer so you could headbutt him as well. You didn’t mind if your temper could get you killed, you were past the point of caring for what’s stored for your future.
Then, your head stopped thinking about your broken heart for a second and understood what they planned. A ransom deal that would grant them everything that they wanted. They’d redraw borders and Taharr would lose a lot.
In a futile attempt to discourage him, you lied. “She’ll never negotiate with you because of me.” It was plain and obvious to every person that ever heard about Queen Calanthe that she’d trade her soul to protect her children.
Again, Pietro tsks because he knew his enemy’s greatest weakness. “You know that’s not true. And if something were to happen to you, I’m sure Queen Calanthe would gather every capable person to fight, every sword, march north and stop for nothing until she has my head in a spike after breaking brick by brick down.” He explained, rather amused at the idea he painted with his mind eye. Though you knew she’d do exactly what he had said and more.
“I bet she’s already restless knowing you’re my hostage.” He crossed his arms and looked at you again. “But I gave her my word that you’ll be back alive, unscathed, the moment we draw new borders.”
Unscathed.
Sokovians probably needed an update of the meaning of this word. Despite calling you hostage, you were a prisoner, and it was only obvious you were paying for your crimes and sins. One of them, the worst of them, was your little romance with Wanda.
You closed your eyes at his words. Your fears proved to be true, you’d be the demise of entire families, not to mention how much your kingdom would lose because of you, because you couldn’t keep your pants on. People would suffer and that would be your fault, so much so for trying to stop the war.
“What did you ask?” You questioned through gritted teeth. “The highlands above Ororo’s Fortress?” In your head, it was only reasonable, because that would represent a great deal of farms and the heart of the golden mines.
Your train of thought was interrupted by his voice, though. “Everything above Red Widow Valley.” He smirked triumphantly as your eyes widened.
“That’s outrageous! She’ll never agree with that.” They were asking for more than a half of Taharr’s territory. The farms, the people, everyone who depended and relied on Taharr to not starve would suffer. Guilt weighted on your shoulders like heavy iron.
“She already has.” He stated simply, with a smug grin hanging in his mouth.
“You’re probably thinking so high of yourself, aren’t you?” You looked at him with eyes cold as ice and continued. “You play war as if your people were nothing, you play with a mother’s love…” A scornful look morphed your semblance. “But it’s pitiful that you had to use your own sister to get you what you failed to.”
At the mention of Wanda, his chill demeanor turned into a flame of anger. “You do not get to talk about my sister.” He yelled and you spat the blood on your mouth on the floor once again, this time, you realized he was much closer than before. “You played enough with her and had fun. Now go back to the whores waiting for you in Taharr.”
He dared to speak with you as if you were the one playing her heart when, in fact, she was taking piece by piece of you these past months.
All the hate in you flared. 
You wanted to hurt Pietro the same way you were hurting. All you wanted to do was to enumerate the despicable things you did in that bedroom with her. How you fucked her, how you had your way with her, and she still begged for you to fuck her harder.
You wanted to bring Wanda’s name lower than a whore’s, for, at least, with a whore you only get what you’re paying for. There was an urge in your heart compelling you to disclose your intimacy until his cheeks burned the same way your heart did from all the stabbing Wanda gave you.
But, in the end, you didn’t even have in you the strength to fight anymore let alone to pose as someone else other than a broken woman with a broken heart.
For once, there wasn’t in you that fire that was always present, that fire that compelled you to fight and stop only if Death claimed your body as hers. For once, the wild lioness couldn’t roar anymore.
“I loved your sister, Pietro.” Devoid of any humor or sarcasm, you spoke the truth of your heart. Why? There was nothing else left. “Even though she lured me to fuck with me and get your goddamn deal. We both know she was the one using me, instead of the other way around.”
Something shone behind Pietro’s eyes, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. They were so alike and at the same time they were so different that your brain short-circuited. When he spoke, there wasn’t mockery or sarcasm either. Which surprised you.
“Did you really fall in love, Young Lioness?”
He was close and you could finally headbutt him, but you were so devoid of fight or self-respect that you relented. Every single one of your mother’s rules went out of the window. That tale of not showing your enemy what’s in your heart? Or not showing your weakness? There was no point in hiding anymore.
You were defeated.
“How could I have not?”
The travel to the south was murderously slow.
As your retinue passed the villages that still belonged to Taharr but in a few weeks would belong to Sokovia, your heart broke over and over. You could swear that people looked at you with disapproving eyes at your actions even though they couldn’t really see you inside the wagon. Or know what you have done. Yet.
You hated wagons and asked to ride a horse, but they considered that you could run and disappear somewhere once in Taharr’s lands. They were probably right.
You hadn’t thought about escaping, but that idea would, most certainly, occur any time after you were surrounded by your kingdom’s vegetation, forests or villages. You knew basically everything about your territory, and this would obviously be an advantage.
Hence the wagon. And your boredom.
If the constant visits of Vision were a pain in the ass, not having visits at all were far worse if that makes any sense. You hated the man for gloating or mocking you but at least you could hate him and not suffer alone as you did when you were all by yourself.
Your wounds were treated before you could march south and the food was no longer distasteful, it was only bad. Which was a huge improvement, considering you still stayed in your cell with that smell, no longer chained to the ceiling. 
Your routine of self-loathing was only disturbed by the guards serving you food, for not even King Pietro or one of the knights came to your cell again. Natasha Romanoff never showed up at your cell, doesn’t even need to mention that you never caught sight of Wanda, not even a glimpse of that auburn hair.
When you finally reached Triskelion, it felt like every single person was on the streets to see the Sokovian legion arriving at the Castle, something unheard of since the early days of the Golden Accords.
Only the noble dignitaries and their protection unit were allowed inside the castle walls, as for the rest of the Sokovians prepared their camp somewhere on the left side of the main wall, outside the Keeper itself, where your people would keep an eye on their movements day and night.
You expected loath and hatred in your mother’s eyes, but you were surprised when you saw relief. You had been reckless like never before and you were sure you’d be punished for it, yet it never came. Somehow, it made you feel worse. You didn’t deserve compassion.
“Oh darling, I’m so glad you’re back home.” Her kind words warmed your heart, that so desperately needed some love and rest.
Loki’s face was pale, and you knew he hadn’t been sleeping or eating properly. Just like when you were taken by the Kree and Witch Harkness, Loki probably thought you’d die, and he’d lose his sister. It pained you that you caused him more distress.
Maria and Carol greeted you with the same intensity as they chastised you and that brought a sense of normalcy that put your heart at ease.
The following days you were treated by the castle doctors, and you took your time to heal and rest. Your bed never felt so welcoming, but you couldn’t take from your head the memory of Wanda’s. How soft and how warm her duvets were whenever she laid by your side.
It was obvious that your feelings for her would take a long, long time to fade off. If ever.
As the negotiations advanced, you could sense the restlessness building up on the room full of nobles. Taharrians and Sokovians.
While the latter wanted to move on fast and redraw the borders, Taharrians insisted that they needed to wait for King Tony’s approval of the new border and, especially, King T’Challa’s arrival, for he had requested to be present for the negotiations.
It was only reasonable. Taharr had a peaceful agreement with both Kingdom’s about borders but when it comes to the Embaku’s Forest on the east between Wakanda and Taharr, things were even more complicated than that.
Wakandans believed this forest was sacred and their spirits wandered about the trees to connect again so they could guide their people into prosperity. Your mother and your past relatives always respected their beliefs and never invaded or hunted anywhere near the forest.
King T’Challa, however, wanted to make sure the Sokovians would understand and respect this as well. But if you had learnt anything at all, it is that Sokovians loved a good scheme, were power-hungry and untrustworthy.
Especially untrustworthy.
Your back ached and your bones screamed with every turn and strike you managed with your sword, just as it did with every blow parried by your shield. You looked around bewildered; only moments ago there was a group of nobles discussing new terms and agreements which, somehow, erupted into a fight.
And, with the increasing numbers of Sokovians flooding the halls and chambers of Triskelion, you knew this was an invasion. Someone opened the gates and now a crimson and silver legion inundated your home.
Anger filled you whole and your chest wanted to burst. How many times would you be betrayed by a Sokovian?
You saw Maria running like a wild mare trying to get the Taharrian troops into the castle, for there were only a few units serving as patrol and escort. With Lord Barton lost, deceased or prisoner, information yet unknown, his legion was still adjusting to the new commander so they would take time to arrive.
Lord Wilson fought by your side, and this was probably an order from your mother. You wouldn’t complain this time though, your body was still trying to recover from dehydration, starvation, and from the physical and emotional slaughter.
You tried and failed to get a glimpse of your mother’s whereabouts, because the sea of red was overwhelming. The castle was cramped, so much so that it felt like the air filling your lunges wasn’t enough.
A sword came dangerously close to your head, but you blocked it in the nick of the time. This wouldn’t be a great time to get headless, you mused. With extreme difficulty, and great effort, you pushed back the Sokovians out of the Castle.
They were strong, organized and knew exactly what to do. This was odd. There was a traitor among Taharrians, and you couldn’t, for the life in you, think who would be capable of such absurdity.
From the castle walls it was possible to see Sokovians outside the Main Wall reinforced with two units that belonged to Hydrarr trying to organize a siege, it was definitely odd. If Hydrarr was responsible for stealing and burning Sokovian’s farms, how were they friends now?
Something didn’t add up.
The attempt of railing and controlling the castle backfired and with the arrival of Wakanda’s retinue, Sokovians and Hydrarrians got caught between your troops and the Wakandans. The whole fight lasted almost a day, but you finally stopped the enemies and forced their retreat to the north.
It was certainly a coup.
There were far too many soldiers on your escort in the first place and, even if they were afraid of insurgents as they had said, there were far too many units for a simple border draw. The group of nobles representing Sokovia was made of low-ranking nobles, no one really important to lose in a fight and, except for Sir Rumlow, you didn’t know who they really were.
Sokovians and Hydrarrians tried to overthrow your mother in the most violent and less honorable way possible. The gods should be thanked that the Wakandans arrived in time.
You searched the castle after your mother, but she was nowhere to be seen and even people who saw her fighting said they lost track of her. There was this nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that something was wrong, very much so.
There were people, friend or foe, being carried to the medical bays to be attended to. As were the bodies. After you left the great hall and reached the main corridor, your heart sank when you saw Lady Carol kneeled beside the lifeless body of Knight Belova.
Knight Yelena Belova was one of the fiercest warriors in the whole continent. First, she served as spy, then requested to serve as knight and soon was graced with the honor of being one the Queen’s protector. The most noble and valuable warrior. And now she was laying on the ground in a poodle of blood surrounded by enemies’ bodies.
She fell fighting like a giant, you thought. However, you hated yourself for not paying the proper respect to her service and sacrifice because all you could think of was your mother.
A trail of blood not far from Belova guided you to another room, a few steps away from where you were now. As soon as your eyes landed on the figure in red and white clothes laying on the floor, you felt as though your heart’s going to explode right then and there.
You ran towards your mother, but it felt like your feet were moving through the water.
The second you reached her, you sank to your knees and only then you saw Loki sobbing by her side. He had her head over his lap and held her hand tight. You grabbed the other and it was cold, sickening cold.
“Mother.” You cried but there was no answer. You hoped she’d crack a smile or maybe simply look at you, but she didn’t move, she didn’t open her eyes. “Mother!” You called, urgently, this time. As if some energy could wake her up.
“Sister.” Loki called. His tone was already mourning, grieving, as if to tell you the truth. A truth that you couldn’t take or accept.  
“No.” You replied, shaking your head as if throwing a tantrum right then would make any difference, as if it could change fate. As if it could change the fact that your mother was gone and you weren’t there for her, even if to hold her and see the light fading from her eyes.
Your body shook terribly as though your soul was about to slip through your pores. She died a hero’s death, fighting. As she always said she wanted, but you couldn’t believe it, and in a selfish thought, you realized she was gone without teaching you everything you needed.
She was gone when you needed her the most. After all, you would always need her. She was your hero, your beacon. 
“Sister,” He tried again. “She’s gone.” His voice had an edge of something, as if he was trying to convince himself. You took him in and saw his robes stained with blood but no visible weapon, though it didn’t look like he was hurt.
“What happened?” You averted your gaze from your mother and met his. There was so much going on behind his eyes that kept your attention until they finally focused. He was lost and so were you.
It was all your fault. If you hadn’t decided to sneak into Wolfgang City, you wouldn’t have gotten caught and this absurd ploy orchestrated by the Sokovians or Hydrarrians wouldn’t have existed. If this deal had never happened, your mother would still be alive.
Hot tears slipped down your face freely, you were responsible for her death in the same way whoever wielded the sword that took her life was. Grief already soaked your bones as all you could think was everything you did wrong.
“I- I- tried, but-.” Loki tried to speak, but his voice trembled just like his body. He was in shock.
“You saw who did this?” Your voice brought his eyes back to you, he was confused and hurting, yet there was something about his expression that brought that uneasiness back to your stomach.
“Ru- Rumlow. I- I- think.” He stuttered more so sobbed the answer as he used his sleeve to clean the blood, sweat and tears staining his face. Then, you took him in and his clothes properly.
“Loki…” Your brother wasn’t a warrior per se, but with an invasion like the one they had just witnessed it was only reasonable that he’d be sporting a chest blade or shield at least. But there was nothing visible around him. Not even a blade or his famous scepter. “Where's your armor?”
Your tone startled him. His eyes darted around like a cornered animal. “Where were you this whole time?” You asked because you couldn’t remember his whereabouts ever since the breakfast that he, uncharacteristically, skipped.
“I- hm. I was-.” Stutter is not a trait that you’d ever associate with him. His demeanor shifted from shocked to someone realizing they’re on thin ice.
Your patience waned off instantly.
“Spill it out.” You hissed and it was absurd that you were about to argue with your brother over your mother’s dead body, but his behavior was too strange for you to ignore. Or you were just too paranoid by this point.
“I- Please, sister, you have to believe me. None of this was meant to happen.” His voice waved, he was about to cry again and the lump forming on your throat made it impossible for you to breathe properly. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
You blinked. His words resonated in your ear as your brain tried to process every single word and what they really meant. You started to shake your head as they sank in, already dismissing the possibility of what was being presented before you. “Are you telling me you’re involved in this?”
“No.” He bellowed, as if your accusation was outrageous. “Oh gods, this is so messed up.” His eyes shot to the ceiling for a second then, they focused on yours again. “I was supposed to facilitate their entry, but they weren’t supposed to touch you. Or mother.” Loki’s eyes were hollow, haunted by his own actions.
You knew that. You could see it. His guilt was consuming him already, but you too were being consumed.
“You betrayed us, Loki! Your mother! Your sister! Your kingdom! And for what?” You grabbed him by the front of his robes and shook him violently, as if the action could knock some sense into his head.
“All I wanted was what is mine by right! I am a King with no kingdom.” He yelled, slapping your hands away from him. “They betrayed me.”
His slap hurt just as the weight of his words did. Though deeply hurting, anger was the only feeling accessible in that moment. “King of what, Loki?” Anger was the only feeling that you could rely on to not fall apart entirely, so you held onto it and let it course through you like the blood you had in your veins.
“In Jotunheim I’d be a King!” He puffed his chest as if it was plain obvious and anger boiled in him due your lack of understanding. And how could you? Loki thought. You were born and raised to be a queen, his unfaithful fate was barely a nuisance to you.
“In Jotunheim you’d be dead!” It was your turn to shout and bring him out of his head, bring him back to reality.
“Can’t you see that this is my birthright?” He asked, almost in a plea and you shook your head vehemently, as if he was being a stupid child.
“And you thought that overthrowing your mother, the woman that raised you as her own child, was the right way of achieving it?” Your head tilted to the side with your sarcastic question, and he opened his mouth to speak, but you weren’t done yet.
“As far as I know, Jotunheim is deep in a civil war again after the eighth in line killed the sixth. The third is crippled in a bed waiting for death’s mercy and all the others died, except for you, the seventh in line. And that’s because of her.”
Every word leaving your mouth felt like a double edge knife. Cutting him just as deep as it was cutting you. Tears streamed down his face as the bigger picture downed in his brain.
“I- I- sister, I beg you. You have to understand, I never wanted this to happen.” He was torn, his decisions would be the grave his grief would bury him in. “Please, forgive me.” He pleaded, suffering in advance.
Now his fate lies in your hands.
“No Loki.” You opened your mouth to continue, but you were devastated and devoid of words or strength to keep talking.
His eyes shot up and searched yours for something, anything. But there was just emptiness.
“No. There must be a way! You are my sister…” His eyes darted around, then focused on yours as he tried again. “Please, tell me what I should do. Anything and I’ll fix it-.”
You stared back at him as he searched his intelligent brain for a way to be forgiven. May your mother forgive you someday, but you couldn’t deal with it anymore.
“Run, Loki.” Your voice broke the silence, and he frowned at your answer or their meaning. “Run and don’t you dare to ever come back.” Your voice did not waver once, unlike how you really felt inside your heart.
“But I- you don’t-.” He stuttered once more, pale with the horrors he had just seen and with the horrors he would face as soon as he left the castle. Loki knows he’d be wanted and hunted down like a mad dog if he decided to stay in Taharr and knew that he’d be dead the second he stepped in Jotunheim territory.
Hells, without the queen’s protection, wherever he decided to go would be too dangerous for him. He was doomed.
Your disgust was evident when you interrupted him. “You don’t understand what your greed did to me. I lost my mother and my brother at the same time.” Sadness emerged in your eyes for the briefest of moments before you finished your sentence. “Leave immediately, you don’t belong to this kingdom anymore.”
Turning your back on him, you laid on the floor right by your mother's side and stood there. The cold of the marble floor impregnating your skin as her blood soaked your clothes, your soul and heart.
Despite the words spoken towards Loki, you knew you were just as guilty as he or Sir Rumlow was. Your greed brought your mother’s demise just as your brother’s did.
Your greed of thinking that you could end the war. The greed of thinking, wishing even, that you were allowed to love. Greed of believing that Wanda fell for you the way you did for her, when, in turn, you should’ve known better.
As you wept and mourned your dear mother, you remembered the last conversation you had had with her. If you only knew it’d be your last.
The what ifs would drive you mad before the sun rose in the horizon, for sure.
“I’m sorry mother. I failed.” Your voice was low, a far cry from your usually confident self.
“You did.” She stated as she offered you the cup of tea. “That makes you human.”
You smiled at her. Maybe she got too scared of losing her daughter, for she was being too subtle and forgiving in a way that was mostly out of character for her.
“You see, love, life is not an easy game to play.” She patted you on your face lightly, as she always did when she needed you to look intently at her and show you tenderness at the same time. “As a ruler, as a future queen, the path is even more tortuous.”
“Do you mean tortuous as complex or devious?” You took a sip from the liquid as lavender invaded your nostrils. Chamomile and lavender, she knew you hadn’t been sleeping. Of course she did.
“Both.” She smiled softly.
“Are you going to punish me?” You blatantly asked, almost ignoring what she had said. But you absorbed her words and their meaning. Life would be – was – difficult and deceitful at the same time.
You watched as Calanthe had the gall to laugh at your question, but then she shook her head lightly. “I believe you’re already doing it for yourself, love.” She patted your knee as she took a seat by your side.
The trees on the fields ahead were long naked, devoid of their leaves or fruits due winter, yet they were still beautiful, somehow.
“I was a fool and now our people will pay the price.” Your words were harsh, but not directed at her. It was all directed at you.
“They probably will, but you must not forget about the others under your command. If you keep looking at what you lost, you may lose even more by neglecting what you still have.” Her wisdom reached your ears and heart, but you retorted.
“How can we rebuild from this low?” Your voice resembled a child facing a puzzle or a challenge they cannot solve on their own and she smiled kindly at you, she probably saw it the same way.
“Well, love, I’ve learnt a long, long time ago to let myself get cut to always return whole with spring.” She spoke, not looking at you this time, but to the trees ahead on the fields.
“What?” You requested clarification and she gave it to you.
“You see how the trees always lose their leaves and get pruned over the winter? This is natural and the trim is a must so their branches can grow stronger. When spring arrives, the beauty returns to the trees, and they’ll grow whole again, with leaves, flowers, fruits…” The queen explained, all the while with a tender smile on her face, as though she’s explaining the meaning of life to an infant.
And, in fact, she was.
“You’re facing your winter, love, you’re getting pruned, and I know it hurts. But you’ll come back whole, you just must be patient and wait for the spring.” Her hand rested on yours and gave it a light squeeze. “Your kingdom will spring too, you just need to work through its winter.”
As her words sank in, your spirit felt renewed with a sense of duty and obligation to your people. You’d fight for their safety, and you’d work on deals to grant the families the decision to choose which realm they’d live in.   
Nodding slightly, you replied. “I will.”
“I expect nothing different.” The warmth provided by her hand and words were so welcomed that had you closing your eyes. You missed home, especially, you missed your mother. “And to answer your question, I could never punish you for following your heart.”
You opened your eyes to see her dark orbs boring into yours with the same tenderness that she used to look at you after falling from your horse when you were still learning how to ride. They were intense, they were protective, they were everything you could focus on.
Out of everything you could or should say, your chest spoke first. “Will it hurt like this forever, mother?” Right then and there, you were only a child scared of their first time hurt and she softened her features even more.
“Oh love,” She hugged you and you reveled on the warmth provided by her embrace and love. “I’m afraid I don’t have the answer for this, as my short experience with your father, I still miss him.” You took a deep breath. Your father isn’t often mentioned, it was like an open wound how he died so soon after your birth.
“I feel so stupid for being lured into that trap.” Your voice was muffled by her chest as she caressed your head, fingertips playing with the baby hairs growing on your hairline.
“You shouldn’t feel stupid for having feelings.” She kissed your forehead lightly, then resumed her ministrations. It was soothing, healing. “If anything it shows me you have a heart.”
“I hate her for what she did to me, and I hate that I can’t hate her.” You felt her chest moving, she chuckled at your words and their ambiguity. You drew back to look at her in the eyes and spoke again. “I mean it, I- I hate her and love her at the same damn time.”
You sighed and relented, for you had finally come out with your true feelings. You didn’t count that desperate and pitiful confession to Pietro. “Because only love can hurt like this, right?” You asked and again, you looked like a youngling about to enter a maze. Insecure and scared.
She nodded, trying to bite back the emotion striking her chest, as a mother she hated everything you had been through. As a mother, she hated the marks – visible or not – the Sokovian princess had caused you. As a mother, your suffering was physically painful for her to testify.
As a queen, though, she knew this was a lesson you had to learn. As a queen, she knew this would only make you tougher, no matter how daunting everything looked now. As a queen, she knew this was a path for you to understand – fully – how one single action has its burdens.
“You should make Loki next in line, for I’m not fit to be a queen.” Your blunt words brought her out of her head, and she blinked several moments before speaking.
“Where’s this coming from?” Her head turned fast to look at you, to look you in the eye and maybe pierce the answer herself.
Completely uncomfortable, you shrugged your shoulders avoiding eye contact at any cost. However, you gave her the answer she had requested. “Look at the mess I’ve made, look at the mess I am.”
With the corner of your eye, you saw her frown for a moment, then spoke. “I see a strong woman and nothing less. As for the mess, Pietro can have the gold, love, but he’ll eventually learn that he can’t eat metal in winter.”
Her hand softly touched yours, the comfort of the gesture couldn’t be measured in words, in fact, you thought your chest could burst with unshed tears, as if you were just a child weeping after their hurt knee. Though you couldn’t. You weren’t just a child anymore.
“As for the mess, you made a mistake. Do you think I’m perfect?” She completed after your silence, staring at your intertwined hands. You didn’t have to look up to see a small smile creeping to her lips.
“I do.” You replied sincerely and finally looked at her.
Almost out of character, the queen laughed. A wholehearted laugh erupted from her chest. “Thank you, but no, I did a lot and still do nowadays. When we make a choice, it can be good or bad. You just must live long enough to see which one is and have courage enough to fight to make it right, to make another choice hoping it’s for the best.”
Her index finger touched your nose softly, just like she used to when you were younger when she wanted to make a point. To point at you. “And you, love, you’re the bravest person I have ever met.”
“My courage just gets me in trouble, mother.” It was your turn to frown and look at her as if to double check if she weren’t mocking you. You had a lot of courage, indeed. You never backed down from a fight, never settled for the easy thing to do but the right one. Yeah, and there was always a huge problem hunting after your tail.
“You were brave enough to love your enemy, this tells me much.” Her words caught you out of guard, but a fond smile told she wasn’t mocking, or mad, it was as if she appreciated your stupid decisions. “That’s no easy feature and that’s why I know you’ll protect and be kind to our people. Your kingdom.”
“It’s your kingdom, my queen.” Your brows were furrowed again, not quite liking her tone or the direction this conversation was taking.  
“One day it will be yours, love.” A satisfied smirk punctuating her sentence.
A hand violently shaking your shoulder brought your head back to present and the pain coursing through your chest was now back on full force. Your eyes snapped open and found the source of the hand being Lady Maria Rambeau.
“Oh by the gods you’re alive.” The woman spoke at your movement, fussing all over to find a wound. “You’re so pale and there’s so much blood…” Her voice trailed off at the end, cementing your heart with the painful truth.
“Maria, she- she’s gone.” You sobbed and her eyes softened tons at your broken voice and expression.
“I know.” She spoke gently while trying to make you get up from where you were laying. “And now I need you to rise from the ground, my Queen.”
The weight of her words hit you like a spear piercing your heart. The weight of your destiny fell on your shoulders like a blanket made of ice-cold metal.
“How?” You asked dumbly. You were not sure whether she meant the literal ground, the cold stone ground your body was half laying, half seating on or the pit of madness and chaos you and your whole kingdom got into.
You were not sure of how you could do either.
You were lost.
Suddenly, you were transported to a memory of when you were just a kid chasing after a foal that got lost into the woods near the royal stables. Like a brave little silly, you entered the tree line, but it didn’t take long for you to get lost. Every tree looked exactly like the other and soon you didn’t know what was left and right.
Much like then, you felt that lost. There was no right or left nor up and down. Just a rock bottom of misery staring back at you.
The person who had found you cornered into the trunk of a tree crying like a silly lost girl back then, wasn’t here anymore to guide you. Your mother was gone, and this was a reality you couldn’t escape.
“Why do we fall?” Maria’s voice brought your attention back to her. A kind smile matching her kind eyes towards you, her protégé.
“What?” You asked, again, dumbly. Not really understanding what she wanted from you or for an answer.
“Why do we fall?” She asked again as if it would make any sense. After realizing you were too shocked to properly answer, she clarified. “So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.”
Her voice resonated throughout the room, but in your ears you could all but hear your mother’s voice and wisdom. This was the exact same sentence she had spoken so many years ago, after tenderly picking you from the ground.
Your mind was a whirlwind; This time it was your time to pick yourself up, you’d have to climb this hole by yourself.
Your brother betrayed you, your mother was dead and now you were the supreme ruler of Taharr. The people – your people – would look after you for guidance, for protection, to be their light in the darkest times, such as the ones you are facing now.
Getting up from the literal ground, you were back on your feet and though your knees were a little bit wobble, you kept your stance. Only now seeing Lady Carol and Lord Samuel also arrived in the room, eyes down with respect towards the body of your mother.
“Sam, help me take her to her room. Carol, gather the morticians to prepare her.” Your voice shook a little with grief and pain. Maybe being strong and trying to be a queen wouldn’t be an easy feat. Not that you thought it would.
After another intake of air, you turned to Maria and this time your voice was firmer. “Maria, you and I are climbing the north tower so I can light up the Goblet of Fire.” Some sort of reassurance took over your body as you decided to proceed with the costumes and traditions of when a king or queen dies in Taharr.
The next in line would be the one to light the fire that could be seen miles and miles away from Triskelion. The next in line would be the one to deliver the somber news to their people.
“We have an announcement to make.” You finished grimily.
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Part 11
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oksana-moods · 6 months
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Hi lovely!!! I am so so so glad and excited to see that you shared more of your fantastic, amazing work with us!!! It put a big smile on my face and I am SO so excited to read it!! I hope you’re doing good, and I super appreciate you!! 💞❤️
Hey you there!
Thank you so much for reaching in! You have no idea how your words moved me, for real.
Thank you for appreciating my work, because it really means a lot to me. ❤️❤️ Ah and you were the one putting a big smile on my face! I hope you like it, it’s been a while since I wrote something.
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