Is this the life you chose yourself, or just how it ended up? Is that the yard you pictured when you closed your eyes and dreamed of children in the grass running through the sprinklers? Being somebody's wife, or were you living in another life?
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━━━━༺❀༻━━━━ A/N —
Welcome all!
If you couldn't tell by the gif, this is the first transition point — from Harry Potter to Marvel. From here on out, chapters will likely be longer and more detailed — that is if I feel like it.
— A. Barnes
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Death wasn't as peaceful as she thought it would be. She had imagined the killing curse being instant and painless. She imagined a bright light at the end of the tunnel, calling her into the afterlife to join her husband and chosen family.
That wasn't what it was like at all.
Ascella Potter died screaming, not only from the pain of knowing her husband — the love of her life, was dead downstairs.
The killing curse was ten times more painful than the cruciatus curse. The couple seconds before absolute death felt like several hours of agonizing pain.
There was a bright light, but it was green and attached to the spell that ended her life.
There was nothing but darkness for what felt like years, followed a pulling feeling that reminded her of apparition, taking her somewhere unknown at hyper speed.
Her mind went totally blank and Ascella Potter (née Black) was no more — instead, in her place was Anastasia Belyaeva.
As if nothing traumatic had happened, a sweet blue eyed girl was born with a head of messy black hair. Anastasia's eyes held an innocence that was foreign to her past self.
Her smile was brighter, happier.
For the first eight years of her new life, Anastasia Belyaeva was happy. She was an only child, so she was absolutely doted on by her parents.
They were happy.
Until they weren't.
Anastasia had been peacefully sleeping in her bedroom that was decorated with colored pencil drawings. It was the sound of the front door of their home being torn off the hinges that woke her from her peaceful sleep.
She peaked out the cracked door to see men in all black with large guns pointed at her parents.
Anastasia backed away from the door, going over to her window and opening it. The sheer white curtains blew in the wind as two gunshots rang out into the night.
Tears immediately sprung to her eyes as she attempted to regulate her breathing.
She remembered what her parents told her to do in the event of someone unwanted entering their home. Hide deep in your closet, don't make a sound, and don'tcomeout. So she hid.
She did so just in time for thundering footsteps to come up the stairs and kick open her bedroom door. The girl held her breath as the men walked around her bedroom. She prayed they wouldn't look in the closet.
Anastasia wasn't that lucky.
They found her within a moment of the closet being opened. She wasn't sure how. Anastasia had done everything her parents told her to do.
Create a diversion, if they think you ran, then you'll be safe. Hide deep in your closet, don't make a sound, and don't come out.
She then also remembered: If they manage to find you, don'tgo without a fight. Fight like Hell, my little warrior.
Anastasia fought like Hell.
She kicked and screamed and elbowed the men until they dropped her. When they let go, she ran, but it was useless. She was caught and sedated.
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When Anastasia woke up several hours later, she screamed and cried until her throat went raw. She eventually passed out once again from being exhausted.
After a week of screaming in her cell, she went silent.
When she went silent, they sent a female guard to her each evening after dinner and gave her access to the showers.
Ten minutes — just long enough for the water to be bearable and long enough to wash herself.
After each shower, she was escorted back to her cell, where a fresh set of clothes would be laid out on the bed — if it could even be classified as that.
It was a twin size mattress on top of two pallets in the corner of the cell, with black sheets, two thin pillows and a blanket. It was horrendous compared to the several pillows and blankets Anastasia had grown up with, all on a queen size mattress.
She wished she could go back to her life.
She wished her parents were still alive.
She wished this was just one big, horrible nightmare, and she'd wake up to see her mothers smiling face telling her everything was alright.
But that wouldn't happen.
HYDRA was her life now. Her parents were dead, and they wouldn't come back. They couldn't come back.
