I smiled at the little girl holding our Ballet instructors hand. She always had a serious face, even as a three-year-old. She'd just look at me. Sometimes if Miss Deviarni wasn't looking I'd wave, she'd always check to see if anyone was looking before waving back. Sometimes she'd even smile, it was only a very small quick smile. She was already fearful of this place. I should have been protecting her.
Miss Deviarni was seemingly the one in a change of my darling little girl. It made sense, she was the strictest teacher at the black widow programme. She was also one of the few female teachers who were willing to drag a baby around with her all day.
Ottilie seemed well behaved, though she has to be in this place. She sits quietly by the piano as the ballet classes get taught. She'd only speak when asked, she didn't play she sat quietly. Her face was set in stone, no emotions being projected what so ever. Just a blank glare. This was no life for a three-year-old. She should be running around outside.
"Little Swan, come along now." Miss Deviarni called to Ottilie who was still staring at me and fell out of her line. Little Swan is what they call her. No one says her first name. Ottilie... I wondered if she knew that was her name. "SWAN! NOW!" she jumped at the volume change as the noise echoed down the hard hall, her big green orbs went wide before she scurried off she took Miss Deviarni's hand in hers. She should be holding my hand. As we walk down the street from the park to the ice-cream shop before going home to our trash apartment. She's a child. Not a machine.
"Miss Romanoff, A word." I tried to keep my sighing to a minimum. "Will you stop distracting other students." "She's a child." "They're all children here, Romanoff." "She's a toddler." "Either way a student on the programme. "On the programme?" She was three. Just turned three there was no way they had her on the programme already. He realised he slipped up and corrected his statement. "Eventually yes. Now, fall in line." He gestured for me to join my class. I didn't want to argue today, seeing the fear in my daughter's eyes was enough to defeat me. And now I had to spend three hours in the red room training. All I want to do is cuddle with my child. Tell her she's safe. That I'll protect her. That she is loved. Loved by me.
After my class I walk through the halls and see 'little swan' in the ballet room, she was dancing gracefully, for a three-year-old at least to soft piano music. Miss Deviarni was instructing her and she listened well, doing each position and step almost perfectly. I guess I understand why they call her swan... as graceful as one.
She turned her head and spotted me, she whipped away quickly her red hair that was reaching her shoulders now fanned out around her. Did I scare her? Or was she scared of getting in trouble again. "Romanoff." I fell back in line before the lecture. I have enough lectures every day, I don't need one more.
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Coming from Ballet I walked past the red room to go to the dorms and there I spot my little red-head. I smiled but then frowned. Was she actually in there right now. She's not even old enough to be training hand to hand combat yet. She was 5! They start training when they were six that's when they took Yelena. I watched as she did each move, so precise so clean. She knew what she was doing and she had more control than the 8-year-olds in there.She was in a class of students three years older than her. This was so wrong. My biggest fears were coming true. They had already broken her down and turned her into a machine. A fighting machine. An emotionless machine and they were ruining her.
My eyes were surely wide in horror as I watched her fight a girl that was older than her. She was winning and it didn't even seem like she was trying and that made me fear what they had done to her more. 3 year's old she was doing dance classes. I could deal with that, every girl dances. But two years on they have her fighting. She's a child. They're all children it's sickening.
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Prosperous In Battle
FanficNatasha Romanoff had a child in the Red Room, she fights for her every day and is determined to give her a better life than she had. Because her daughter wouldn't be reduced to an emotionless assassian. She named her Ottilie, meaning Prosperous in b...