𝑾𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑴𝑺 ━━ 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚜

27 The Funeral

Steve stood in the pew, the cathedral's somber air pressing down on him. The haunting notes of the choir filled the vast space, rising to the vaulted ceilings and echoing back down, as though mourning itself had taken on a voice. Steve's grip tightened on the folded program in his lap, the edges crumpled from the weight of his hold.

The casket, draped with the Union Jack, sat at the center of it all, a stark reminder of Peggy's legacy. Her framed photograph stood beside a flickering candle at the altar, her piercing eyes and soft smile frozen in time. She was a hero, a founder of SHIELD, a pioneer. But to Steve, she had been a friend—a confidante in moments of doubt, a grounding force when the chaos of the modern world became too much.

As Sharon Carter approached the podium, Steve's thoughts wavered, drifting from the weight of loss to the distant memories of another love. Zerena Vikander—or Edda Amsel, as she now called herself. His first love. His true love.

He blinked back the sting in his eyes as Sharon began to speak. Her words echoed faintly in his mind, but his focus faltered, his thoughts returning to a different time, a different place.

London, 1940.

The cobbled streets were damp from a fresh rain as Steve and Zerena strolled along the river. She had her arm looped through his, her laughter like music in the quiet night. Zerena had always been full of fire, her sharp wit and unyielding spirit drawing Steve to her like a moth to a flame. She challenged him, pushed him to be better, and believed in him long before he was Captain America.

"Do you think this war will ever end?" she had asked, her voice softer than usual, as if the question itself pained her.

Steve had stopped walking, turning to face her. "It has to. People like us—we'll make sure of it."

Her smile had been faint, tinged with sadness. "And if we don't make it to the end?"

Steve's hand had found hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Then we'll go down fighting. Together."

Back in the cathedral, Steve's heart ached at the memory. He hadn't seen Zerena in decades, not since the war tore them apart. She had disappeared, leaving behind only questions and the ghost of what could have been. Now, she was Edda Amsel, a name that felt both familiar and foreign, much like the woman herself.

Sharon's voice brought him back to the present, her words cutting through his reverie.

"...it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say, 'No, you move.'"

Steve's gaze snapped to her, and their eyes met briefly. There was a fire in Sharon's tone, a conviction that mirrored Peggy's own resilience. Steve's chest tightened as he realized how much Sharon carried Peggy's spirit, her defiance in the face of adversity.

But it wasn't just Peggy's words or Sharon's presence that stirred him—it was the reminder of Zerena, of her own unwavering determination. She, too, had been a beacon of strength, a force to be reckoned with.

As the service continued, Steve bowed his head, closing his eyes against the tide of emotions. Peggy was gone, but her legacy lived on—in Sharon, in the ideals she had fought for, and in the memories Steve carried. When the service concluded and the mourners began to leave, Steve lingered. He stood in the quiet cathedral, the fading hum of voices and shuffling footsteps behind him, he let his mind wander to Peggy. Not the hero immortalized in photographs and history books, but the woman he had worked alongside—the one who had seen him for who he truly was, even before the serum had changed him.