Loki's Little Witch [en]

chapter 8. the aftermath

Wanda's eyes followed the latest quinjet that took off from the Avengers Compound, miles away from her bedroom window, as she had done a million times before, yet the feeling wasn't the same. Nothing was as she remembered: not the image of the river fading as the sun went down. Not the gray color she remembered her walls being. Not the lavender scent of her room. Not even her bed felt as soft as she remembered it to be.

The only thing that seemed to be the same was the strong scent of her father's cologne. She didn't even have to make an effort to feel his presence on the opposite side of her room, while she lay on her bed, with her back turned from him, staring out the window, doing everything possible to keep her eyes open since she couldn't bear closing them for more than two seconds without the image of Loki being stabbed in the heart repeated itself in her mind over and over again, and each time, the feeling of that dagger piercing his heart felt the same, as it did his heart slowing down until finally stopping.

"How is he?"

She questioned the moment Stephen stood a foot inside her room, causing him to frown and turn searching for Tony's eyes, which also had been locked to the window, feeling unable to glance at his daughter for more than two seconds without the image of her, laying on the ground, crying uncontrollably at the feet of the Asgardian, came back to his mind.

But he simply raised his shoulders to his husband, he figured they had to start getting used to the fact that she could know their every thought or know their every move whenever she wanted since she didn't even need to turn her body to see him enter her room after making sure Peter was calm enough for him to leave him alone and be there with her.

"He's okay," he muttered those words, "a bit confused... like we all are, but he'll be fine," he sighed, clasping his hands together.

She couldn't help but squeeze her eyes shut hearing his words, only this time, the image of her little brother's terrified face came to her mind, making her eyes fill with tears even when she felt she couldn't possibly cry anymore, "I can't believe what I did to him," a first tear rolled through her cheek as she spoke, "I can't believe what I put him through. I will never forgive myself for that."

"No, don't say that honey," Stephen rushed to respond hearing the heartbroken tone of his daughter, "it wasn't you."

"Yes it was," she blurted firmly, "I remember everything clearly. I knew what I was doing and I felt nothing. I looked him in the eye as he begged me to stop and I felt nothing," Tony couldn't help but look away while tears rolled through his cheeks. He never felt like hugging his little one more than in that moment, but he simply couldn't —and she knew it—, "I would never forgive myself either if I were you. I put everyone in danger. I hurt them all. I hurt you. I hurt you and I remember it felt so right. I don't deserve anyone's forgiveness."

"No. Please don't say that."

Stephen couldn't bare hearing his daughter torture herself any longer, that without hesitation took a seat on her bed, picking her by the arm and forcing her to take a seat as well, gazing at those swollen pair of emeralds and for the first time in a long time, finding pieces of her daughter in them.

"Nothing that happened matters. It wasn't you and everyone knows that. Everyone is fine and you're back for good now," he couldn't help but draw a trace of a smile on his face as he said the last, "we love you and nothing you can do will ever change that. We love you, alright?"

Wanda swallowed hesitant but simply couldn't kept herself anymore, rushing into Stephen's arms, who embraced her as he let go a deep sigh, one which felt like he had been keeping for seven months, and everything he remembered about his daughter felt the same: her fast heartbeats, the softness of her skin or the jasmile smell of her hair. Everything was the same.