Treacherous

Chapter 1

   "Smile and laugh," my father says. I nod curtly. This isn't what I imagined when my father told me we'd be attending a party. I should have known better, though. Novi Grad isn't exactly a 21st-century city. Sokovia itself is not up to par with the rest of the world, at least in my opinion.

   As we were riding into the city, I could still see the remnants of the Air Force bombings that happened years ago. Buildings are still in ruins and the roadways seem hazardous. I read old signs that say crude things about Stark Industries. I know that Stark himself had nothing to do with that, but I can understand the anger towards the man behind the weapon. This whole country was already crumbling, but those bombings pulled the rug out from under these people.

   I'm used to the busy streets of London. Sunny skies and beautiful architecture are normal sights. So why wasn't this gathering held in London, then? Apparently, someone insisted on hosting it here, at his home in Sokovia. 

   Now, I stand beside my father in a small mansion that overlooks the city. It is filled with aristocrats chatting idly and drinking amongst one another. Military personnel is at every exit point. Father told me it was a gathering for "the rich to brag about their earnings." He mainly wanted to introduce me to potential future colleagues for when I inherit his fortunes. 

   My father laughs at something a fellow aristocrat has said, and I laugh along with him. I'm staring right at the man, and I have no idea what he just said. We're standing in a small circle near the center of the room. I feel as if people are staring, but I think it's just my nerves. There's a lot of pressure that comes with being an heir. Not only do you inherit money and connections, but secrets and hidden agendas come along with it.

   "Ayla, please tell this old bugger that I can get around just fine without this cane," my father scoffs amusingly. I turn to my father, who's holding his cane in the middle so it doesn't touch the floor.

   "Standing without it is one thing, but walking is another, Father," I state. The older men burst out into a laugh, and my father looks down at me, clutching his chest in mock shock. 

   "My own daughter rats me out," he says jokingly. "Only in her 20s, and yet she knows how to knock me down."

   "Aye, that's a good thing, my friend," a German man says. "My girl here is the same way, and I praise her for it." He puts an arm around the shoulder of a woman not much older than me.

   "I get it from you, dad," she laughs. Only a handful of women my age have come along with their fathers, here for the same reason I am. I'm lucky to not be the only one that got sucked into this boring affair.

   I feel out of my element here. Mother always hated these things, Since she passed a year ago, I've filled her shoes traveling with father more often. I like the traveling part, but not this. Father told me if we didn't make an appearance, it would not look good on us. I'm not sure what I will do once I have to go to these on my own.

   "Sorry to hear about the loss of the twins," a Russian man says. I perk at this notion.

   "Ah, yes. I'm sure the Avengers were thrilled when they discovered our base of operations," a Sokovian replied. "But the twins allowed some of us to escape, so I don't really care where they are." He chuckles and takes a sip of his whiskey.

   "You aren't worried they will come back with a vengeance?" I ask him. The man peers at me over his glass. My father scoots closer, and I can tell I've asked a sensitive question.

   "Of course not. They volunteered themselves. We helped them out of poverty and gave them unique abilities. They should be grateful," he says with a smirk. I plaster a smile on my face, but on the inside, my blood boils. There's no telling how they were treated.

   I've heard my father on phone calls mention the twins. We are not a part of HYDRA, but my family knows people. I could probably guess that half of the people here were associated with HYDRA in some capacity. I'm acutely aware of their testing of a new super-soldier serum out in Siberia, and I know how they gave those twins their abilities through Loki's scepter. I keep my ear close to the ground on all of their movements, just so I know what my father might be dealing with. He's the only person I have left in this world, and I feel a need to protect him.

   As conversation shifts to a lighter subject, I turn my gaze elsewhere. Looking to my right, I spot a man leaning against a pillar across the way. His eyes scan the room as if he's not looking for someone, but taking note of everyone. His hair is neatly styled, and he wears a long trench coat with the edge of its collar trimmed with fur. He taps his boot to the beat of the music lightly playing, and he sips on what looks to be whiskey.

   His gaze eventually lands on me, and suddenly I realize how long I've been staring. However, I can't look away. He cocks his head and thinly smiles at me, almost out of amusement. He brings his glass up to his lips, still looking at me over the rim. I feel a blush creep up my neck and abruptly turn away. That caught me off guard.

   "That's Baron Zemo," I hear a woman's voice say, the daughter of the German man who spoke up earlier. She's leaned in close to my ear, and I meet her eyes in surprise. "I'm not blind." She rolls her eyes.

   We chuckle and I look back over at the baron. He's still looking at me, but he turns away as I look. "He's also the leader of a military group called the EKO Scorpions. They're the elite of the Sokovian military, highly skilled," she informs me. How have I not heard of him?

   "Does he have any family?" I ask, turning back to her. 

   "He has an elderly father. He'll inherit his fortune soon. He also has a son, but his wife passed a few years ago." The German woman takes a sip from her wine glass. 

   My stomach drops at the notion. I know what it's like to lose someone before you think it's their time. 

   My father puts his arm on my back and ropes me into another conversation about the vast art collection we've acquired over the years. I force a smile and nod along. I find myself picturing that face in my head. I mean, it's a nice face to picture. I glance back in his direction, and my body goes cold. He's making his way towards me. He nods as he passes people he knows but always returns his eyes to mine. 

   I move out of my father's grasp and turn towards the baron as he approaches. He keeps a respectable few paces away and gently nods at me with a sly smile. 

   "I must say, you look lovely this evening, Miss Zeigler."