#svad2019

He gave the power to both his children. They both took well to it, the boy able to run faster than the eye could see and the girl able to manipulate matter, see people’s thoughts, and alter reality itself. It suited the man that his daughter was the one to receive the greater and subtler abilities. He told no one of what he had done and commanded his children to do the same.

One day tragedy struck. The boy fell ill, his fever ran high, and he was gone within two days. Not even his father’s great magic could save him. His daughter mourned her brother’s loss terribly. The man was sad for a time, but he considered the death of his son a tolerable loss. After all, he still had his daughter, who was the more skilled and a worthier successor.

The man eventually grew tired of his daughter’s grief. He thought it was extravagant, but he held his tongue. Over the years her grief did ease as she grew in stature and her father taught her more about how to use her powers, always reserving his own secrets for himself. When he was not training her, he kept his daughter merely as an ornament in his hall. He was also a cautious man, so he encouraged her to use her gifts only as he saw fit. He always made sure she knew whence her gifts came and that they could be taken away again.

But one day he realized that he could not keep her with him forever. He began to think on how he could best control whom she might marry. Eventually, the solution came to him, and a slow smile spread across his face. He determined that it was time to take advantage of her powers. The only thing that remained was to ensure his daughter’s willing compliance.

One day he gathered all his landed friends and their sons, for he would not see his daughter married to a lesser man. He carefully arranged their seating from largest to smallest plot of land, with himself at the head, to be certain that everyone knew his place. He did not even pay any attention to the workman from the local smithy who was fixing one of the suits of armor that lined his great hall to show what forces he could outfit at need. He commanded his daughter to sit at his side, silent and smiling and wearing her finest dress.

“My friends, you have seen my daughter grow into a beautiful young woman. It is now time for her to be married, but she cannot marry just anyone. I must know that whoever is to wed her is clever and persistent and worthy of her many charms. So I have devised a test. Starting tomorrow, every day for the next year there will be a cat with a key tied to its collar somewhere in the area.” He held up a small box. “Whoever is able to capture the cat, completely unharmed, will receive this box, which contains a treasure far greater than its size, and my daughter’s hand in marriage. If after one year no one succeeds in trapping the cat, my daughter will be free to marry whomever she pleases.” The man only offered that concession because he was confident that one year was sufficient time for one of Wanda’s suitors to catch her.

This suited his daughter, who had equal faith in her wits and her ability to evade capture. She did not like the stares and smiles of the young men on offer. They had all grown up together and she had no desire to wed any of them. But she smiled and smiled to please her father, at least for now. She did start briefly when she met the eyes the workman who was at the edge of the room, but he quickly looked away.

“May the best man win, and remember, no harm is to come to the cat. If a hair on its head is damaged, the deal is forfeit. Now let us eat.” The young men all sought her favor throughout the meal, trying to incline her toward them. They made would-be witty remarks and gave her airy compliments, though none of them had ever tried to get to know her. She bided her time and smiled and smiled. Let them think that she could be won over.

After everyone left, her father told her to rest up for the next day. She complied, excited for the next day. For what her father had not revealed was that the cat he encouraged the young men to capture was Wanda herself. It suited her to obey, for her father never told her where exactly she should wander or for how long. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for to explore beyond the manor’s bounds with her father’s blessing.

The next morning her father reminded Wanda not to let herself be caught too easily, but to allow her suitors to see her cat form from time to time. She nodded, trying to hold back her excitement. She’d never had the luxury of having the whole day to herself. Her father affixed the magical cord that would adjust to her size and a bright silver key to her neck. He spelled it to remain in place for the entire year. When she underwent the familiar shrinking, she allowed herself a moment to adapt to being much lower to the ground. The smells were so much more intense and the colors muted.

Wanda spent the first few days exploring the forest outside the estate. For though she had wanted her freedom for so long, she found that she was shy about going into town. The sight of so many people was terrifying as well as thrilling. The young men had already laid some very obvious traps near her home that she easily avoided. She wondered if any of them had any inkling that the cat they are supposed to trap is the object of their affections. She doubted it.

Every night when she returned, her father seemed both relieved and disappointed, but it was very early. Wanda’s evenings were filled with needlework, music practice, and spinning, for her father would not have her forget her duties as the lady of the house, even though she was occupied during the day.

Over the next few weeks, Wanda began to explore farther afield. Her new vantage point allowed her to easily observe the goings on in the market or the village square from the shadows. She enjoyed the sights and sounds of all manner of people going about their days. When she saw one of her suitors, she backed deeper under an awning or ran the other direction.

On one such day, two of Wanda’s suitors surprised her. They saw her at the same moment and began to run toward her. She cursed the silver key that stood out bright against her dark fur. Fortunately, the men were more concerned with stopping each other from getting to her than apprehending her. She slipped easily between their legs and ran into the first open door she saw, hoping to avoid detection.

Wanda found herself in a small smithy. There was a fire pit built into the wall on one side of the space. The other side held shelves that contained a number of finished dishes, knives, and tools. The room appeared empty, so she let herself breathe for a minute.

Until a figure emerged from a curtain in the back of the shop. Wanda beheld the strangest man that she had ever seen. His skin was a deep red hue, interlaced with shiny silver patterns. She almost forgot that she was still being chased and backed out the door, but the man smiled at her in a friendly fashion. “Hello there.” His voice was slow and measured, just as his footsteps toward her were. Wanda still puffed up her fur and hissed at him, the cat’s instincts sometimes taking over when she was in this form.

The stranger paused. She saw his gaze fall to the key at her throat, but he only said, “I mean you no harm.”

She was still trying to think of what to do next when one of the young men who was hunting her cleared his throat at the door. “You, fellow, have you seen a small black cat come by here. It has a little key around its neck. I’ll see you get a handsome reward.” Wanda had to wonder why her pursuer did not have a more pronounced reaction to the blacksmith.

She prepared to run again when the strange man inevitably gave her away, but he surprised her again. “My apologies, sir, but I have seen no such cat.”

The man’s footsteps had no sooner stomped away before her other would-be suitor was at the door with the same question, also without a notable to reaction to the blacksmith’s strange appearance. The red man gave the same response. The suitor promised to sweeten the reward even more if he kept an eye out for her. “Of course, sir.” He walked away, apparently satisfied, but Wanda could detect the faintest trace of irony in her protector’s voice.

A few minutes later, he stepped outside. When he returned, he said, “Neither of those men are anywhere in sight.”

Wanda considered what to do. She knew that she was taking a risk revealing herself, but she desperately wanted to understand. So she moved deeper into a shadowed alcove at the back of the shop and resumed her usual human shape. The man’s eyes widened as he looked at her, but he was no more surprised than she was. For before her stood a tall man with blond hair and fair skin that she would easily pass over. No sign of red skin or unearthly markings. Though he did look somewhat familiar when she thought about it.

“Why didn’t you give me up to them and collect your reward? Did you know I was human? Why were you talking to me? Who are you really?”

He paused for only a moment before answering, “First, I did not like the look of them, and your mannerisms seemed to indicate that you did not wish to be found.” He ticked off the answers on his fingers. “Second, I did not know that you were human, but animals understand much more than most humans give them credit for. Finally, I am Vision, the blacksmith’s assistant.”

Wanda tried to rephrase her last question. “No, I mean, this is not your true form. Glamours do not work on cats.”

Vision bowed his head. “Ah, I have never had to explain myself to anyone before.” He paused again, raising his head but looking over her shoulder. She tried to catch his eye, for this was something she had experience with, but his gaze remained distant, his body perfectly still and tense.

She cleared her throat until he finally looked her in the eye, his expression set in a tight line. “Neither have I. No one but my father knows what I can do.”

Smiling slightly, Vision said, “I suppose I am in much the same position. My creator is the only one who knows my true identity.”

“Creator?” She did not understand. She knew there was something different about him, but he seemed as much a man as any other.

“Yes,” He paused for a moment, glancing at her before gathering himself, but his explanation flowed smoothly, as if he had practiced the words many times. “I am a construct of elemental magic and metal. Master Stark long wished to create life. His many experiments led to my birth, or creation if you prefer, and I have worked with him ever since.”

“That explains the skin and the disguise.” She was impressed at the seamless appearance of the glamour. He only gave a tight nod.

“Yes.” Vision shifted, just slightly, as if uncertain what she would do next. He glanced toward her and away several times while she tried to absorb what he said. The last time he did so Wanda recognized him.

“Wait! You were there on the day my father made the announcement.”

“Yes.” Guilt clouded his expression. “I suppose I should have told you that when you first transformed.”

She shook her head to deny the need for an apology, but something was bothering her. “Why didn’t you try to catch me yourself? I know the key caught your eye.”

“Well, when I saw you that day, you did not seem enthusiastic about the prospect of your father’s challenge.” His gaze cleared, and his stance relaxed.  “I had no wish to force a woman into marriage. When I saw you as the cat today, I felt even more strongly that such a betrothal was unwanted.”

“Oh.” Wanda had little experience with strangers, but somehow she was inclined to believe him. There was no artifice in his gaze, no hesitation in his words.

They fell silent for a time, and it was only when Wanda looked out the shop window that she realized how low the sun is in the sky. “I have to go.” He nodded. She was about to leave when she turned back abruptly. “May I come back tomorrow?”

Vision only blinked at her for a moment. “If you wish.” She smiled and gave him a little wave.

When she returned home for supper, her father asked why she looked so happy. Wanda merely shrugged and replied that it was a beautiful day. Her father was still suspicious but made no protest as she studiously turned to her chores.

The next day she donned her cat form again and traveled toward the blacksmith shop. She only transformed when Vision greeted her and she saw that the shop was empty. “Good morning, Wanda.”

“Good morning.”

They stared at each other for long moments. The awkwardness began to build so much that Wanda was tempted to leave. Vision finally said, “I’m sorry. I am not used to visitors. May I get you something to drink? Do you need anything else?” He smiled tentatively at her, and the look won her over.

“Don’t do anything special on my account. I’ll just sit here and watch you work if that’s alright.”

“By all means.” He gestured to a chair that was set up in the back of the shop.

And so it went. Over the next weeks Wanda’s visits became more and more regular. Sometimes she arrived early in the morning until they finished their lunch. Vision didn’t need to eat, but he took a midday rest and sat with her. Other days she would come in the afternoon and stay until she had to return home at sunset. She would spend the rest of the time exploring the town and the next town over.

The first time the blacksmith entered the shop while Wanda was present he looked slightly surprised, but only smirked and whispered something in Vision’s ear, which was met with a thin-lipped expression and a brief headshake. Vision introduced her to Anthony with a firm look at the latter. Wanda used all her training as her father’s daughter to maintain her polite expression. At least he did not disturb them for the rest of the day. The next day Vision handed her a dress that he had borrowed from the blacksmith’s wife, for even Wanda’s simplest dress was made of the finest threads and fabrics, marking her as nobility.

When three months had passed, Wanda had finished exploring the limits of both of the nearest towns, and the new sights did not match the attraction of watching Vision work quietly and talking to him about everything under the sun. It was still a novelty to have someone genuinely interested in her feelings and opinions. Most of the people she met were only interested in her as a proxy for her father’s favor or her father’s wealth. And then there was her father who was only interested in carrying on his own name and legacy.

It was fortunate that few people she knew ever ventured into the blacksmith’s shop, having servants to run their errands and considering the simple metals beneath them. But occasionally an overgrown boy who knew nothing of war would come in to see the swords on display and dream of glory in battle. Wanda would hide in the back storage room, waiting for them to pass. When Vision signaled that it was safe to come out, she would always find the shop in disarray. She would help to set everything to rights despite Vision’s protests.

One day a farmer came into the shop to have his plough repaired. Vision told him it would be ready in a day or two. An idea struck her that perhaps she and Vision could combine their magics and put their special skills to use. They experimented with infusing their magic into the metal at various stages of heating. Eventually they came to a result that resisted all their attempts to damage it. When the farmer returned, he was very impressed. He offered to pay twice the agreed upon price of two chickens, but Vision refused with a smile.

Word began to spread of their knives that stayed supernaturally sharp, horseshoes that never rusted, and dishes that cleaned easily. There were some townspeople who recognized Wanda from the few occasions she had been outside under her father’s watchful eye. When they saw how nervous she was at the recognition, they pretended not to notice her. They felt for her, and it helped that she and Vision always saved their best pieces for those who could not afford them. The townspeople in turn adopted them as their own and vowed to protect them.

At the six-month mark, Wanda’s father began to grow more frustrated at her suitors’ failure. He wanted them to have to work to win his daughter’s hand, but he thought the task would be complete by now. He vastly overestimated their competence. The men’s traps continued to be laughably easy to evade. Wanda fulfilled her end of the bargain by spending a little time walking around as a cat before heading to the shop and spending the day there.

One day while she was standing beside Vision waiting to add her magic to the knife he was molding, Vision asked, “What are you humming? It’s lovely.” Wanda flushed, glad that she could blame it on the heat of the fire. She had not realized she was humming out loud.

“It’s a lullaby. My mother used to sing it to me and my brother.” During the lunchbreak that day, Wanda found herself telling Vision all about her lost loved ones and her father’s refusal to recognize their deaths or accept her mourning. Vision listened sympathetically, offering her his full attention without any meaningless reassurances, before discussing his own lack of family in turn. Anthony tried, but he was always busy with his family and his next project. Vision was accepted as a part of the household, but he was still separate from them.

After those admissions, Wanda and Vision became even closer. They had no secrets from each other. Wanda told Vision how she had always wished to explore the world, but when she had the opportunity, she ran from it. Vision told Wanda of how he feared that he would never be fully human, how people would shun him if they knew what he truly was. Wanda assured him that, though she could not guarantee anybody else, he would always have her. Vision assured her that there were many types of courage and that the world would be waiting for her when she was ready.

When nine months had passed since the challenge began, Wanda’s father held a ball for all her suitors and their families. Wanda was finding it more and more difficult to tolerate her suitors. They continued to pay no heed to her thoughts and feelings; they made no attempt to learn who she really was. During the dancing, their hands gripped her too tightly and they trod all over her feet.

Wanda felt guilty for complaining so much to Vision, but he only listened attentively before offering her his hand, saying perhaps he could do better. She accepted his offer with bemusement. Close as they were, they seldom made physical contact. He held her delicately as they twirled around the shop. They were soon laughing when they stumbled over a stray tool, paying more attention to each other’s eyes than their surroundings. They righted themselves and continued. One of Vision’s hands held onto hers and the other rested on her upper back. Wanda leaned into him when he smiled fondly at her. It was already half-dark when she left the shop that day, having to run home to avoid her father’s wrath.

The next three months passed far too quickly for Wanda’s liking. She knew there was a chance that her father would renege on his word, though he did take his promises seriously. She did not know what she would do if her father refused to let her out of the estate. Having had a taste of friendship and freedom, she could not go back to being her father’s perfect statue and protégé. Vision distracted her with proposing new uses for her magic. She allowed herself to forget how time was running out and simply enjoy his company and offer her own new projects.

When Wanda entered the shop on the last day of the bargain with her father, she was exuberant. She could barely contain her excitement at the thought of being on the edge of freedom. Vision picked up on her mood, grasping her hands. “What will you do after today?”

“I will marry whoever I please, on my schedule.” She tried not to look directly at Vision as she said it, but her eyes were drawn inexorably toward his small smile. The rest of the day was spent quickly glancing at each other and way, grinning all the while. It was almost like her first day in the shop, but that day the space between them was filled with exhilaration rather than awkwardness. Wanda felt a warm fluttering in her stomach as they sat side by side at lunch. When their hands brushed as they laid out some newly finished nails, they did not pull away from each other.

When it was time for her to leave, Wanda impulsively kissed Vision on the cheek. She giggled at his utter surprise. “See you tomorrow, Vizh.” She barely heard his reply when she skipped out the door, preparing how to tell her father that she had found the man she wanted to marry.

Unfortunately, on that day, Wanda was paying too little attention to her surroundings. She was almost home when she walked directly into her least favorite suitor’s arms. She twisted in his hands, trying to claw and bite at him, but her father was standing at their front gate. He uttered a spell to immobilize Wanda as he congratulated the man who had captured her. He ushered the man inside, telling him to wait in the main hall while he put Wanda in her room. He allowed her to transform back into a human before locking her away in her room.

Wanda considered her options for some time. She knew that she was at risk of angering her father, but she had been so close to freedom. She refused to give it up. Perhaps if she convinced her father how deeply she felt for another, he would have pity on his only child. Past experience of her father would suggest otherwise, but she had to try. If that failed, she would think of more drastic solutions.

Alas, her father would not listen to her pleas. He got along well with the suitor. He felt that the young man would preserve his wealth and his lands, appreciating that he came from an ancient family and would be a worthy father to his future grandchildren. Chaperoning several meetings between Wanda and her future husband, her father cared not at all that he and Wanda did not have anything to talk about, if Wanda could even get a word in between the man’s listing his accomplishments and assets.

Days passed. Wanda soon realized that there was no hope to change her father’s mind. Her father and her future husband spent all their time planning a grand wedding, complete with a golden carriage and over a hundred guests. After her third escape attempt, her father used the stone that he still carried with him until she was officially married to remove her powers. The loss left her instantly cold and weak, but she continued to make new plans.

Meanwhile, Vision worried. At first, he thought that Wanda regretted the affection she had shown him. He had almost thought that she had been talking about him when she said she would marry someone she chose for herself, but perhaps he had been mistaken. No one could truly want to marry him. But word had spread from the servants in Wanda’s household, to whom she was always kind, to the other townspeople that Wanda’s father was holding her against her will and forcing her to marry. One of their most frequent customers told the whole tale to Vision, who resolved to rescue his friend.

Two days before her wedding was to take place, Wanda was pacing her room, trying to think of a solution to get out of her prison. Her father had reinforced the bars on her window and across her door with his own magic. Without her powers, she had no idea how to get through them.

After a time, she collapsed on her bed, having worn herself out with worry and restless movement. A soft humming at her window caused her to open her eyes and sit up. She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Vision? What are you doing here?”

“When you did not come to the shop, I thought you had changed your mind about our meetings.” His gaze dropped until Wanda approached him and touched his arm briefly. He met her eyes directly, sincerity and hope shining out of him. “But I was told that one of your suitors succeeded and you were trapped here. I had to ensure that you were well.”

“I’m not,” Wanda assured him heartily. “I’ve been trying to run away, but my father stole my powers.”

He winced, knowing how much Wanda valued the powers that helped give her some control over her own life. “I am sorry I cannot do anything to give you them back, but I will run away with you.” Wanda smiled her first true smile in days. “I cannot offer you the life you deserve, but I will share whatever I can call my own with you. I will always stand by your side.”

“I don’t want anything more than that.” She looked around her room with slight regret. She wished she had a little more time to pack some of her belongings, but time was of the essence. Her dress was not inconspicuous either. She sighed. She supposed she would have to continue borrowing from Pepper before they left. At least she could be sure of him and their bond. “I’m ready when you are.”

He reached for her hands and clasped them briefly. “Wanda, I-.”

A bright burst of light hitting Vision’s chest cut him off mid-sentence. He immediately fell to the floor, skin going cold and gray when his glamour vanished, wide unseeing eyes becoming white. Wanda cried out and sank down next to him. “Vizh?” She shook his shoulder hopelessly before finally turning to her father. “How could you?” The tears falling thick and fast blurred her vision, but she could glimpse his sneer.

“I’m merely making it easier for you to do your duty.” He looked down and nudged Vision with his foot. “What is this thing anyway?”

“This man’s name is Vision. I love him.” Wanda leaned over him, caressing his cheek with the tips of her fingers. Her tears were still flowing freely, but her father remained unmoved.

“I have warned you before about feeling too deeply. You see? It has brought you nothing but pain. Now get up and compose yourself. We will be rehearsing your wedding ceremony in twenty minutes.”

“No!” Wanda draped herself protectively over Vision’s body. She was not ready to let go yet.

“Yes.” Her father’s voice was firm and implacable. “If you continue to act hysterically, I will stop your tongue until it is time to say your vows. If you even think of causing a scene, I will make your life more miserable than you can imagine.”

He started to levitate Vision’s body away from her, but Wanda still clung to him. In a last move of desperation, she kissed his lips, as she was never able to do in life. At first nothing happened. However, a cry soon tore from her father’s lips. The stone that he so carefully crafted flew from his hands, glowing warmly. Energy began to spill from it. The scarlet tendrils threaded their way between Wanda and Vision, flowing through their mouths and twining around their bodies.

Wanda could feel a surge of power deep within her as the magic ceased its glow. Even more startling was that the stone had nestled itself in Vision’s forehead. A warm wave of crimson was spreading out across his body. Even her father was transfixed by the sight of Vision’s body rising higher, becoming upright with his arms wide open.

Hope was a relatively new emotion for her, but Wanda dared to dream that Vision would open his eyes and recover. When he finally did so, he looked confused for a moment, but floated down to her side, tenderly brushing her tears away. Eventually he rose and lifted Wanda to her feet. Looking down at her with some pure emotion that she was afraid to name, Vision asked, “Shall we?” His gaze was serious, enquiring if she still wished to leave with him, still wished to abandon the only life she’d known.

Wanda beamed at him with no reservation. “We shall.” They had both forgotten about her father until he stepped in front of the window, blocking their path.

“You will not move one inch, young lady.” He moved forward threateningly, but Vision refused to drop her hand. Instead, he tried to angle his body in front of her. But Wanda would not have it. She knew Vision meant well, but with the return of her powers, she would not have anyone push her to the sidelines in the name of protection. She pushed forward, so that they stood shoulder to shoulder. Vision nodded slightly at her and she could feel his acceptance that she had to do this.

“Father, I’m leaving.”

Her father scowled and squared his stance. “I swear I will-.”

“You will do nothing to me.” Red swirled around her fingers. “I’m leaving. Now stand aside. Let your would-be son-in-law inherit for all I care.” She prayed that her father would listen to her for once. Though he had not been a kind man, she did not wish to hurt him. She just wanted to be free. Apparently, her father saw the determination that was burning through her because he did move aside.

Not without one final barb. “I disown you. You will never get one acre of my lands or one coin from my coffers.”

Wanda would mourn the loss of her last family member another time. She steeled her spine and her voice to reply, “You have given me and taken away from me enough. I need nothing from you.” She held onto Vision as he phased them out of her room. She would not look back.

When they were beyond the boundaries of her father’s estate, Vision floated even higher, only the slight glow of the stone illuminating their path. Secure in his arms, Wanda began to relax. She almost didn’t realize that they’d stopped until Vision asked, “What happened back there, Wanda? The last thing I remember is talking to you, and then I was in the air and you were collapsed on the floor.”

“My father hit you with this, and you…died.” She tapped the stone that now resided in his forehead. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you being gone, so I kissed you. The stone gave me back my powers and healed you.”

Though taken aback, Vision smiled at her faintly. “Thank you for saving me.” But his smile fell almost immediately. “Although I cannot help but regret that I missed our first kiss.”

Wanda lifted her hands to his neck, massaging his skin. “Maybe it shouldn’t count since you didn’t feel it.”

“That sounds like a fine idea.” He brushed a strand of her hair, which was floating in the breeze, behind her ear, and his hand lingered, threading through the waves. “Would you care for a second try?”

Wanda’s lungs heave in as she crests what seemed an unassuming hill, but the joy of increased gravity means it felt more like a mountain. In all her life, she’d never really thought what it would be like to walk an alien world, never imagined it would feel like rainy days when the mud sucks her boots down and every stride becomes a small battle with nature. Other than her thighs aching from a measly hill, the world around her seems oddly non-alien, mostly. The setting sun creates streaks of amaranth and clementine, silver specks flicker behind wispy clouds, and even the ground is wrapped snugly in a blanket of small, mustard colored flowers like the rocky slopes outside of Novi Grad. Except Sokovia never had four moons and never shined like stained glass under the sun. Minus those small details, she can almost imagine they are back on Earth.

One bit of normalcy that contributes to this feeling is the sight before her, Vision staring silently across the still waters of a little pond, mind, no doubt, ticking through every negative event from the day. Not that she blames him, her own mood soured about ten minutes after waking up to find Tony waiting at the breakfast table next to Vision, a manic grin on the billionaire’s face and a handful of shredded paper that he tossed into the air with a Congratulations! once she sat down. Thankfully Tony had already established his…eccentricity with the Guardians who didn’t seem fazed by the action (well other than Mantis excitedly clapping at the confetti display), even if her own team all became intensely interested in the cardboard-esque food on their plates. 

Wanda sucks in a few more breaths before descending, calves screaming with each step while her mind unhelpfully reminds her that this isn’t the walk she was supposed to be making towards Vision today. About halfway down the hill, he gets on his knees, shoulders slouching forward as he stares deeper into the water. Wanda frowns, feet moving a bit faster to close the distance, understanding he is now transitioning into level 3 brooding. “Vizh…” 

She says his name approximately five steps before she reaches him and yet it takes another agonizing three seconds after she’s at his side before he acknowledges her. “Hello.” Despite greeting her, his attention is focused on the steady scooping and pouring of water over his arm, each splash followed by a wince. 

Wanda kneels next to him, hand dipping under his cape and rubbing up along his spine. “Can I see it?” Wordlessly he shows her his right arm, four punctured lines running down it with a sickly green slime clinging to the raised edges of the injury. “That’s gross.” 

“Yes, it is,” disgust hangs heavy in the words, which is surprising given not much bothers him (at least physical things like monsters or biological organisms, the bigotry and hatred of people disgusts him daily). “I never wish to do that again.” 

“I thought Nebula was going to do it, since her arm’s not, well...” Wanda doesn’t know how to finish the statement so she leaves it hanging, finding the woman in question a terrifying and unsettling mystery even if Vision assures her that the she’s not an immediate danger.   

Thankfully he effortlessly picks up her thought. “Last night Rocket tested our durability and tactile sensitivity in a carefully constructed simulation.” The way he phrases it makes it sound like one of Stark’s grand technological courses back at the compound, not like the three-foot-high pile of wires, pillows, a couple of blankets, half of the eating utensils, and a soup bowl corroding by the second, that was actually used. “Nebula and myself had similar bodily responses to the acid mixture.” Wanda stares at his arm trying to figure out if they also anticipated the rows of teeth inside the creature strong enough to cut vibranium or if that was an unpleasant surprise for Vision. Based on available evidence, she’s going with the latter. “But when it came to our tactile abilities, I was much better at detecting subtle changes in texture which meant I would be more capable of locating the switch.” 

This is partially true and likely what he wants to use to convince himself that he was the right choice, except she was sitting nearby when she heard them going over the rules of asteroid, paper, blaster. “And I’m sure it had nothing to do with losing their game.” 

Vision’s lips curve slightly as he washes his arm again, “They cheated.” 

“Still counts as losing.” 

The teasing is supposed to cut the tension between them, not increase it with his leaden, “I suppose.” 

Wanda sits back on her heels and watches him continue to rinse his wound, each hypnotic splash chipping away at the remnants of their partially failed mission.  It’s been a long, strenuous week, and today was a mixed bag of success, on the one hand they finally disabled the entrance (or what Rocket lovingly referred to as a semi-sentient trapdoor of doom) to where the artifact is kept, a task they’d failed at for days and ended up having to use their last-ditch strategy of an unlucky person (i.e. Vision) shoving his hand into the creature in search of the switch for the door. On the other hand, inside the door they came across yet another deadly puzzle to solve and ominous warnings of an ember eyed demon, which was nowhere in their intel. This new development required them to call off the rest of the plan and regroup tonight for further strategizing.    

“Do you, um…” Vision tenses at the questioning slant of her words and it compounds what’s been bothering her this whole damn mission, because since unexpectedly blasting off into space, the air between them has been heavy, an unacknowledged perturbation forming that they silently deemed a concern best left to discuss after the mission. Which isn’t the healthiest tactic, but Vision tends to believe in compartmentalizing personal issues away from Avenger directives for the sake of focus. They’ve done pretty well, pretending like nothing's wrong, but after this morning with Tony and yet another day tacked on to their trip, and especially due to the way every conversation has started to feel like walking over eggshells that surround a slumbering interdimensional demon, Wanda has had enough. “Can we please just talk about—” 

“I have already apologized to Mr. Stark for my loss of temper.” 

“I know.” When Vision says a loss of temper, what might come to mind for people unacquainted with him is a blast from the Mindstone or a punch so hard it shatters a wall. What actually happened was a very terse, Tony, be quiet. No one other than herself and maybe Natasha even realized the depths of seething annoyance sewed into those three words, but it was right as he snapped, right as he took away focus from maintaining the right density, that Vision also gasped in pain at the plant-like creature biting down on his arm. None of that is actually what she wants to talk about, however. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

Wanda leaves the rest silent, fully aware of how the weight she gave her words will settle onto his shoulders, cocooning him in a guilt that needs no prodding other than a few more seconds of empathetic quiet. “It is just,” he sits back on his heels, hands coming to rest on his knees, and stares out at the twisted trunks of the piebald trees around them, “Even though I do not regret being present to help save the universe,” something she agrees with, “I also was very much looking forward to, well,” he shrugs, trying to act as if what’s he admitting is some sort of childish wish, “our wedding.” 

Wanda scoots a few inches to help close the gap between them so she can lay a kiss to his temple. “Me too.” Finally, for the first time since leaving the compound, they’ve acknowledged the elephant stampeding around them. Today was supposed to be spent in New York City in a venue that was too big and too fancy for them, committing to spend the rest of their lives together. Instead she spent four hours holding up a scarlet shield to keep the onslaught of rabid, insanely powerful six legged monstrosities at bay while her fiancé had his arm shoved down the throat of a thing that looked like a venus fly trap had a drunken one night stand with a blobfish. “You know, I figured something weird would happen today because weird is kind of our thing, but I wasn’t expecting our day to go like this.” 

“I concur. Though I will admit,” Vision’s arm wraps around her shoulders, holding her tight to his side, “it was very charitable that the semi-sentient trapdoor of doom was thrown in for free since the colored napkins were extra.” 

A full-bodied laugh rushes out of her body, delighted at the sardonic thoughts he rarely shows to anyone but her. “I’m sure if we had wanted the fully sentient model it would have been like three hundred more.” 

“Oh, most assuredly.” Wedding planning, they discovered very early on, is a gaping jawed monster with an endless pit for a stomach.  It drove Vision crazy, nearly as much as dealing with the county clerk’s almost eight-month long refusal to recognize his birth certificate for their marriage license. Vision’s tone sashays away from sarcasm and back towards despondency. “I am certain the fee for having to reschedule will be exorbitant.” 

“Probably.” Which should make her angry right now, not so much the charge, though it is ridiculous, but she should be in a rage at how long the mission is taking and how aggravating it is that all they do is squabble over who has a slightly better idea instead of deciding on a path and fleshing out the plan. When they left, the possibility of missing their wedding wasn’t even a blip on her radar of concern. When the universe needs to be saved, you go and save it. Which doesn’t erase how very very much she wanted to get married today...but even if they were to go back in time, knowing all they know now, she still would have gotten on the Milano because she’s an Avenger and Avengers don’t put their personal lives first. Perhaps she should feel guilty about it, but she doesn’t, which kind of makes her feel guilty. “Vizh?” 

“Yes?”

“Would you have rather have dealt with the trapdoor of doom or paparazzi today?” 

The scrunch of his face betrays his indecision and it instantly feels like absolution of her own sinful thoughts. “I believe I would rather have dealt with the trapdoor,” quickly he qualifies his decision, “for the sake of the universe.” 

“The universe is pretty important.” 

“Very much.” Vision pauses, lungs half full and mouth still open, his mind abuzz against the shallow link she has with him, and whatever it is he’s considering vibrates the air around them, prickling against her skin and sending her heart into a slightly faster tempo. “You know, I have been thinking that, um, since we likely will not have the Orensanz again for some time,” the refurbished synagogue Stark found for them touts a wait list of up to 3 years and they were told, about a million times, that they only got the date they did because the sheer celebrity of their wedding would mean an even longer waitlist in the future. They were also informed this cutting in line was a one time exception. “Perhaps when we return we just do something small?” 

The suggestion latches to the corners of her mouth, his words floating up and bringing a smile to her face. “You mean like the wedding we actually wanted?” 

A playful defensiveness weaves through his response, “If today had gone differently, I would have been thrilled to vow my life to you in front of two hundred and fifty of our closest friends.” 

“You forgot about the seventy-five person wait list and the fifty press members.” 

“Yes, and the protestors.” After Tony published an announcement of their wedding, they were alerted to an online movement to picket outside the venue. “I checked the news earlier, the protest still happened.” 

Of course it did. “Any good signs?” 

His eyes grow distant, no doubt sweeping through the news for pictures, “Nothing truly imaginative, which is on par for this group,” now the disgust is back and she feels like it should be a lot more pronounced than it is, “one sign did purport that Asimov is rolling in his grave, but I believe this may be a fundamental misunderstanding of Asimov’s work.” 

Wanda decides to move back to a better topic, never knowing where Vision’s mind will descend when discussing the laws of robotics. “So, what are you thinking for this small wedding?” They’ve discussed it already, both at the onset of their engagement and throughout the planning process, always late at night once Tony had left, Vision’s voice growing more wistful the further Tony pulled them away from an intimate ceremony, claiming the first Avenger wedding had to be a big ordeal, but she never gets tired of hearing him walk her through it. 

Vision straightens his back, his hand remaining on her shoulders to hold her steady as he moves off of his knees to sit on the spongy moss, an action she mimics, enjoying the feel of his muscles on her back when he cuddles her to his side once again. “I believe our backyard would be best,” with a flick of her finger, Wanda inserts herself into his mind, grinning at the image he constructs to go along with his words,  “the chuppah can be placed on the east side of the lawn,” the four posts rise in the center of his thoughts and then their handcrafted cloth envelops the structure, “we could string lanterns around the perimeter,” twinkly ones he saw on a backyard renovation show, “we will need to wait until dusk when the stars come out, and there should be just enough space for our teammates, Helen, and the Bartons.” The white folding chairs plop into their still growing grass, and though she doesn’t count, she knows he has the right number. 

“You should probably finish putting up the fence first.” 

“Yes,” a white paneled fence with decorative lattice work on top (that matches their pergola) pops up in his mental picture, “privacy would be of utmost importance. The ceremony would be unchanged,” the only thing Tony left up to them in the planning, though that control was not ceded quietly, a threat of scarlet and Vision’s best disappointed stare the only reason Stark backed off, “and I believe the reception would just be an evening with friends. We would, for the sake of public opinion, and Mr. Stark’s pride, hold a larger reception at some point.” 

It’s what he’s always daydreamed about, what she has as well, and it’s part of why she’s not completely overwhelmed with disappointment that today went the way it did, even if she would rather be his wife right now. “That sounds perfect.” 

“You two ever coming back?” Sam’s voice in her ear fractures the contentment of the moment. “Steve wants to get strategizing.” 

Another click from the comms and Starlord’s grating voice comes through making sure that any enjoyment that remained is decimated by his puerile addition, “Yeah, tongues back in your own mouths.” 

“Shut up, Quill.” Now Rocket joins in and Wanda rolls her eyes at Vision who sends her a commiserate nod. “You didn’t even realize those two were a thing until an hour ago when we told you.” 

Defensiveness seems to be a second skin to Starlord, one he pulls particularly snug around Tony and Thor, though clearly his own teammates know how to get to him. “How am I supposed to be in the know about everyone’s dating life?” 

Nebula flatly counters back, “They make out everywhere,” which isn’t true, “you’re just oblivious, as usual.” Which probably is true, based on the week Wanda’s known the man. 

“Yes,” Mantis’ voice is always gentle and optimistic, brimming with enthusiasm that is infectious even while contributing to ruining a nice moment with Vision, “last night they were on top of the ship.” They were, but they were just trying to find some peace and quiet, something Wanda shouldn’t have to feel defensive about. 

“And at the table,” this is proudly added by Drax, “they didn’t notice me standing in the corner.” They did, which is why they moved to the roof of the ship. 

Sam hits his comm a bit early, allowing the sounds of rustling and background chatter to come through, “Welcome to living with those two.” It’s a comment that from the likes of Stark would be derisive, but from Sam is good natured albeit it still makes her a little self-conscious. 

Natasha, a consummate professional, wrestles control back of the comm system, something she and Steve have struggled to do with the increased lines in use. “Can you two please come back?” 

“We will return momentarily.” 

Nat’s “Thanks, Vision,” seems cheerier than usual, likely from the victory of stemming a conversation on the brink of being out of control.

The line finally returns to the light static of dormancy. Vision untangles from their embrace, standing up with a reluctant sigh, his arm extended and palm up, offering assistance that Wanda accepts. “I suppose we should return before we have to deal with that again.” 

They should. Even if it is the last thing she wants to do. These meetings are always long affairs due to the inevitable devolving into one-upping each other with acts of stupidity masquerading as heroics. Sometimes she’ll participate, but most of the time she just wants to shower and relax, actually decompress before the next phase of the mission. Additionally, given the complete lack of privacy and solitude in the cramped ship, as their teammates so kindly noted, she’s remiss to leave this spot and this moment, Vision the only person she ever wants to be around post-mission. Tonight even more so. “Yeah, we should.” 

Despite their words, neither moves from the peacefulness around them. 

The stars are crystalline, so much brighter than the ones they see on Earth. Wanda’s not even sure if they are the same stars or different, not really understanding where they are, but she admires them all the same, especially the way they reflect off the placid surface of the pond, in the middle of which two moons hang together, rippling when an insect lands on the water.  “Vizh.” Their hands are together, fingers laced so naturally, their muscles remembering each other perfectly so that a simple action like holding hands can happen without thought. Wanda tugs on his hand, turning his body to face her, his eyes bright and curious at what she wants. “I love you.” 

His face softens, the Mindstone glowing a touch brighter as his lips mimic the curves of the moons above. “I love you too.” 

It’s a common exchange between them, done at least five times a day, usually more, but today it holds a special weight, or at least, it was supposed to. Maybe it still can. Wanda reaches out her other hand, wiggling her fingers until, with his head cocked to the right, he takes her invitation, his body fully facing her now. “You know, I’ve spent the last three weeks practicing what I wanted to say to you today,” usually in the shower or lying in bed while Vision was off making her tea. It was nerve-wracking to write down her feelings for him, even more petrifying was the knowledge of having to say it in front of so many people. Right now, however, it’s just him. “And, um, is it okay if I tell you? Even without the wedding.” 

Vision’s lips tighten into a line as he works through her request, the right side tipping up when he nods in understanding, “I would like that.” 

“Okay.” The world hushes around them, the gentle lapping of the water at the mossy shore providing a meditative anchor to calm her nerves while her heart matches the rhythm of his irises spinning. He’s beautiful, always, but especially against the backdrop of the nebulous skies. “Okay. Vision,” if it is this hard to say it just to him, she can’t imagine how she was going to do it in front of over two hundred people, “A long time ago I was told I had a moon. A very kind, very gentle, freakishly intelligent and attractive moon,” the increasing slope of his mouth and the comforting pressure of his hands helps keep her going, “and I thought they were idiots.” Vision laughs with her, easing her nerves just a bit more. “And they were, to be fair.” 

He whispers his agreeance, making sure not to interrupt her too much. “Yes, they were.” 

Wanda spends several seconds counting the turn of his irises now that she’s reached the part she had struggled to put into words without it sounding so cheesy she was embarrassed to say it. “They thought you were a moon and I was a planet, never realizing that we were just two planets that happened to pass by each other and become joined in a mutual orbit.” A moment goes by where she seeks out some sort of response, having watched the documentary again just to make sure she didn’t screw up the science lingo. Vision simply smiles. “One that’s only grown stronger throughout these wonderful, amazing years. No matter what we’re doing, or where we are, we will always find each other, we will face every obstacle and accomplishment together. I will always be drawn to you and you to me, I hope.” 

“I will.” 

Wanda beams at the reassurance, “That’s good. I love you, Vision. And, um, even though we’re already pretty comfortable in our little planetary system, I am so incredibly overjoyed to be binding my soul to yours today.” 

“That was beautiful.” 

“Thanks.” A weight falls from her shoulders at the unmitigated love on his face and booming from his mind, her cheeks beginning to sting a bit from how wide her own smile is as she feels his thoughts and feet shift. 

“Wanda Maximoff,” his voice shakes as he adjusts the grip of his hands, his thumbs nervously running over her rings while the gears in his eyes race counterclockwise. “I am most comfortable with the world when it can be quantified and analyzed conclusively, which may come as a shock, I know.” 

“Truly shocking.” 

A gentle kiss is laid on her forehead, the pressure of his lips replaced with the corners of the Mindstone as he touches his face to hers, voice lowering as he continues, “Ever since I came into this world, there were quantifiable changes where you were concerned. My heart rate always increases 2.25 beats per minute whenever you enter a room, 5.73 whenever you smile at me, and 9.62 whenever you touch me.” If she concentrates, Wanda can feel his elevated heart rate even now, thrumming happily in the pulse at his wrist. “During the evenings, my mind spends significantly more minutes replaying our conversations than the combination of my time spent with our teammates. There is also a significant lag in the number of milliseconds it takes me to form words when you stare at me in a particular way,” Vision breathes in, releasing a shaky, self-conscious laugh, “Like the way you are looking at me now.” 

“You’re doing great.” 

“Thank you. Um, so these are only some of the numbers I associate with you,” the rest, no doubt, she could find in spreadsheets and charts, a thought that only increases the smile on her face, which she thought was impossible, “and yet they fail to represent what you mean to me.  Wanda, my love for you defies quantification, and oddly, I find this immensely comforting, that there is no straightforward way to define the ineffable rightness I experience whenever you are with me.” Vision lets go of her hand in order to bring his palm to her cheek, the ridges of his thumb tickling her skin as he wicks away her tears. “I love you, Wanda Maximoff.” 

“Are you,” she lifts onto her toes, bringing their faces closer, “going to kiss your bride now?” 

A radiant grin breaks across his face, “Yes I am.” 

As Vision bends closer a voice booms in their earpieces, “Hey, lovebirds,” Tony’s timing is impeccable, as always, Vision’s forehead falling back to hers in defeat, “Steve just crossed his arms and sighed which means the aneurysm is next, so please, get your asses back here and then you can disappear, capiche?” 

A deep inhale from Vision helps to calm both of them and her own aggravated exhale serves as a mild catharsis. “Let’s just go appease them and then,” she runs her hands up along his arm, always enjoying the feel of his tricep flexing beneath her touch, “we’re going to come back to that whole kissing your bride thing, okay? Because I am expecting one hell of a kiss from you.” 

Vision huffs in amusement. “That is amenable to me.” He swings his body away from the lake, his momentum encouraging her own feet to point towards the hill she walked over earlier, and holds out an arm in the general direction of the basecamp. “Shall we?” 

“I’d really rather not.” 

“Me neither.” 

“But we should go.” 

“Yes, we should.”

They walk back hand in hand, eyes trained up on the sky as Vision points out the differences in this stellar vista from the one they like to watch from the compound roof. As they approach the ship, the unmistakable beat of Starlord’s repetitive music greets them, making it hard for her to hear the last bit of the tragedy of some serpent lovers embedded in the sky. Wanda tamps down her annoyance and heads towards their typical seats, ready to get the strategizing over with and back to Vision. Except their seats aren’t there. “Where’s the…” Wanda glances up and freezes, voice caught in her throat, unable to finish the question. Vision doesn’t need to hear the rest, his own body rigid and confusion thrashing in his mind. 

All of the chairs and boxes have been rearranged from the circle they’ve been using for meetings to rows, separated into two halves by an aisle leading to a four post structure covered in a large, linen cloth that is a singular piece, embroidered with a border of twining Ws and Vs made up of scarlet and gold thread.  “Wanda did you…” his voice trails away, dissipating into the air as they stare at what appears to be their chuppah, well most of it anyway, the posts are not the same branches they’d carefully chosen a month ago. Not that that is important. What is more important is that Wanda knows for a fact she didn’t pack the cloth and if Vision’s own discombobulated thoughts and cessation of breathing means anything, then he also didn’t bring it. 

“It’s about time.” Nat’s voice startles them both, Wanda jumping at the intrusion and Vision’s fingers flinching against her hand. “Steve was about to send out a search party.” 

“Nat,” Wanda leans to the right to glance around their teammate just to double check what she’s seeing is real, “what the hell is going on?” 

The spy presents them the same smug grin that crawls across her face during their biannual poker nights, right around the time they all realize their last chips are about to be taken. “You’re supposed to get married today, right?” When neither of them acknowledges this, Wanda, personally, in too much shock to process what is happening, Natasha’s pride descends into a softer, friendlier cadence. “Sam and I realized as we were all running around packing, that we might miss the wedding.” 

“So we grabbed the important stuff, you know,” the other culprit joins them, a toothy grin on Sam’s face as he throws his arm around Vision’s shoulders, “rings, the canopy thing, Thor got us an intergalactic marriage license he claims will be recognized by the U.S., though we’ll have to figure that one out when we get back because I don’t believe him.” 

The way Natasha's arms cross always makes Wanda nervous, an action that typically precedes bad news, “I couldn’t fit your dress into my bag," her shoulders drop a little, releasing some of the involuntary tension in Wanda's neck, "but I did pack a couple of your normal ones, if you want to change, and apparently Drax is pretty good at braiding hair, if you want that.” Based on Natasha's own disbelief, Wanda is not eager to find out if the man is a braiding aficionado. The dress, needs a bit more thought.

“I, um,” at the tenth obscenely priced bridal store Wanda had told Nat and Pepper that she didn’t care if she got married in her pajamas, which was a bit of an exaggeration, but it also held some truth. Sure, when she was a little girl she had her dreams of fancy dresses made by mice and horse drawn carriages, yet as she got older those fanciful thoughts fled, the world beating them out of her with each tragedy. She’s not a princess and Vision’s not a prince, they’re Avengers and no fancy dress can or should change that. This is their life, the reason they met, and it’s fitting, in a way she hadn’t ever contemplated, to get married as Avengers. “I think I’m fine like this. Vizh?” 

“You did this,” Vision’s voice is distant, a bit strangled, not used to being caught so completely by surprise, and the corners of his eyes glisten as he takes in the grinning faces of their teammates, his mind still about three steps behind in the conversation, “for us?” 

Sam’s incredulous, “Of course, what kind of best man would I be if I didn’t make sure you got down the aisle?” seems to shock Vision even more, his body turning away to take in the area around him and Wanda joins him in this, a smile creeping ever higher on her face at the sight of their teammates mingling. Mantis is stringing makeshift electrical wire garland along the seats where Gamora and Nebula lounge in silence, Rhodes and Starlord appear to be arguing over a boombox, Groot keeps sprouting flowers and placing them in a sizable bouquet, and Thor is just to the left of the chuppah, chatting merrily with Tony and Steve. “You two want to get married, right?” 

“Yes.” The first one is disbelieving, but after Vision meets her eyes to get her consent, which she gives unapologetically with an enthusiastic nod, his second “Yes,” is firm and brimming with excitement. 

Though Wanda’s close with Natasha, they’ve never had a touchy relationship, which makes the arm she lays along Wanda’s shoulder a bit awkward yet still amicable in its unexpectedness, “Good. I know it’s not the lap of luxury you were supposed to have...” 

It’s not, but it is surprisingly close to what they actually wanted. “This is perfect.” 

As if the gesture wasn’t already wonderful, Nat adds another detail to the day, “Rocket even got Helen and the Bartons in on a video feed to watch.” 

“Thank you,” Vision’s voice still trembles with shock, “for all of this.” 

“Seriously, our pleasure,” the shake Sam gives to Vision’s shoulder causes Wanda to sway as well, “let’s get you up front.” 

Vision hesitates at the suggestion, turning back towards Wanda with a furrowed brow, “Should I change?” 

“I think you look fantastic like this,” Wanda fidgets with the edge of his cape as she talks, “plus I’m not changing, so I’d rather you not make me feel underdressed.” 

“Then I will remain like this.” He glances towards the canopy, where only Thor now stands, sending them a friendly wave, and Vision’s lips twitch up when he faces here once more, raising her hand and placing a reverential kiss to her skin, “I will see you shortly.” 

“Bye.” Wanda’s fingers flex at the loss of his touch. The graceful flow of her groom’s gait as he takes his place sends a tingle shooting up her spine while butterflies seem to flutter in her stomach. The sight of the two men speaking quietly with each other, their capes billowing against the rocky backdrop, stirs her heart, a warmth budding in her chest and hitching a ride through her veins until her entire body is aglow. 

“I am Groot.” 

Wanda looks down at the tree, a broad smile forming at the bouquet he offers her. “It’s gorgeous, thank you.” 

“I am Groot.” 

“Thor claimed you all know what to do for the ceremony.” The statement ends in an uptick, Natasha’s own, smaller bouquet tilting to the side as she looks at Wanda for confirmation. 

“As long as he didn’t change anything, then yeah.” 

“Good. I convinced Tony not to walk you down the aisle.” 

This is why Nat was the easy choice for her sole bridal party member. “Thank you.” 

Natasha shrugs, never one to want compliments for doing her job. “Groot volunteered to be the flower…tree, I guess, so he’s going to lead the way, I’ll follow, and then Quill is going to play the only song he owns that seemed mildly appropriate, that’s when you go. Any questions?” 

They have the chuppah, the rings, both she and Vision are conscious and relatively unharmed. It seems all of the most important components are here. Then a chill runs up her spine and her lungs spasm at the thought of forgetting one other vital piece of the ceremony. “Did you grab the frame?” When they began planning in earnest, Vision bought a new, much sturdier frame for the only remaining photos she had of her parents and Pietro, the intent being to place it on a small table next to them so she’d have all of her family with her. 

“It’s on the ammunition case right next to where you’ll be,” Natasha’s bouquet directs her to the case and the silver frame. 

Even if it infringes on the status quo of their friendship, Wanda throws her arms around Nat, “Thank you so much.” 

The hug is reciprocated for a couple seconds and then it ends, Nat pulling back with a half-cocked smile, her eyes a little wet but she acts as if that’s not happening, instead brushing a stray piece of Wanda’s hair away from her forehead. “You sure you two don’t need a few minutes to get ready?” 

“No, we’re good.” 

Natasha let’s go of her with a serious nod that is given levity by the brightness of her, “Then let’s get you married.” 

It feels like a dream, all of it, which makes Wanda’s agreement wistful and a bit uncertain.  “Okay, let’s go.” 

The dreamlike feeling remains even as she watches Groot dance down the aisle, one hand dropping the same small flowers of her bouquet to the rust colored soil and the other releasing flecks of light into the air that remind her of lying in the forest during the summer, marveling with Vision at the way the fireflies blink in and out of existence. When Natasha leaves her, reality starts to set in a little bit, her heart racing and fingers closing tighter around the stalks of her bouquet, and she doesn’t really understand how something so wonderful can make her feel so off-kilter. The song changes and somehow her feet know what to do, moving independently of her mind, a fortunate thing because she’s only vaguely aware of the faces on either side of her, far more enthralled by the tiny, stunning smile gracing Vision’s lips, one that grows with each step she takes until he beams down at her, the love radiating from his mind brighter than any star she’s ever seen. It’s when he takes her hand, right around the first chorus of I fooled around and fell in love, and leads her under the cloth, the moonlight cascading through the fabric, creating a stunning pattern on his vibranium, that it fully hits her: she's getting married. 

“Are you ready?” 

Wanda grins up at her very-soon-to-be-husband, “I am.” 

Wordlessly they move into place for the first part of the ceremony, a tradition Vision insisted remain as they decided what parts from her heritage to keep and which to amend. Not that she wanted to forego this part of the ceremony, but she halfheartedly pretended to just because she enjoyed watching how enthusiastically he outlined the reasons to include it. Wanda lets go of Vision’s hand and steps in front of him. In time with the music, she walks a tight circle around him, making sure to brush his arm on each of her three passes, reaffirming her commitment to be close to him and to protect him. The slight nudge she gives to his shoulder on the last circle is just to keep him on his toes. Once she’s done they switch places, his three revolutions are more elliptical but just as tactile, the tips of his fingers in constant contact with her body while he moves around her, and she accepts his promise to remain with her through all cycles of her life. It’s the seventh and final circle when she finally stares into his eyes, focusing on the jubilant whirl of the gears and the sheepish tilt of his mouth, their bodies facing each other, barely an inch between them, as they take synchronized steps to transition from two separate paths into one joint orbit. 

Thor takes over once they resume their original positions, side by side, a thoroughly thrilled grin on his face and his hands gesturing wide as he speaks. “Welcome my dear friends. Is it not fitting that on this day we are gathered on a field of recent bloodshed,” Vision glances at her, the lift of his eyebrows matching her own amusement at the change in script, “to celebrate this momentous and singular union of two of the universe’s most powerful and otherworldly warriors?” 

The words are allowed to settle before Thor gives a hearty laugh, clapping his hand to her shoulder, leaning forward as if he is telling her a private joke despite the fact his voice is still loud enough for everyone to hear. “It is humorous to me, the evolution of this relationship. Wanda if not for your villainous invasion of my mind,” something she had not considered necessary to bring up at her wedding, “I never would have investigated the existence and capabilities of the Mindstone, and your groom here,” Thor’s other hand lands on Vision’s arm with a loud slap, one that, if it were anyone other than a vibranium-laced synthezoid, would send a body reeling, “would not have come into being. It is truly poetic how deeply entwined your lives were at the onset and how this has been cultivated into a love so true,” he shakes their shoulders to emphasize the words, “and so profound that it will no doubt be sung in the great halls of Midgard for centuries to come. My dear friends,” his large hands leave their shoulders, but not before shoving them closer together with a wink, “it is my honor to be here today to herald in your union. You have prepared vows, yes?” 

The expectant stares around them are stifling, Wanda a person who has never had a strong desire to be the center of attention. “Um yes.” 

“Then please, face each other and speak your unbridled passion.” 

Before either of them move, Natasha stealthily takes her bouquet, leaving Wanda’s hand free and unsure what to do, their actual rehearsal was supposed to be last night and though she knows roughly what happens now, she finds herself a bit lost on who is supposed to do what. Vision reaches out for her floundering hand, encouraging her to swivel to the appropriate position. Reliefs rushes through her at the slightly flummoxed wrinkles of Vision’s forehead, and she finds that when she looks at him, the rest of the people fade away and the only discomfort left, as she counts the ten clicks of his irises, is the antsy tap of her heels as she waits to finally kiss her husband. “Vizh,” the gentleness of his fingers cinching around her hands always flips her stomach and does funny things to her heart, “if it’s okay, I might just do the abridged version, since, well…” 

“Of course,” that little reserved smile on his face, for years, has created sunbursts under her cheeks. It still does. 

“Okay.” Wanda stares at him, studying the textured lines of his face (even though she has them memorized), and then glances down at the contrast of his skin against hers, unable and unwilling to dam up the giddiness spreading throughout her body at holding his hands like this for the rest of her life. A half step back is just enough to take in the way the floating, golden orbs reflect off the vibranium and give his eyes the slightest of shimmers, Wanda committing this moment to memory as the last time she looked at him as her fiancé. “Vision,” she’d meant to recount only bits of her planned vows, yet new words seem to sprout as she takes him in, “you are my best friend, the love of my life, and my planet. I am so lucky that in this weird,” her gaze briefly slides to the faces in the frame, Vision following her gaze and holding her hands a little tighter, “unforgiving world, I managed to find a soul like yours. You make the universe more beautiful and give me hope when I don’t think any exists. I love you so much.” 

Thor wipes a tear away, infringing on their moment with a, “Truly resplendent. And now Vision.” 

A small cough precedes Vision’s barely audible, “You did not inform me these would be improvised.” 

Wanda shrugs, equally quiet with her, “Sorry.”

“I will forgive you.” He winks at her and it sets off a flurry in her chest. “Wanda,” the team took bets on who would cry first in the ceremony, everyone but her betting against Vision, which makes the tear running down his cheek all the sweeter as his voice seems to run away. A gentle squeeze of his hands seems to help him recover. “Wanda,” no amount of pride or money can match the way his voice washes over her, sincerity and love stitched into every word, “as was recently mentioned, my path into this life was a little unusual,” silently she mouths just a bit and is rewarded with the breathy, nigh inaudible snort he does whenever he’s simultaneously amused and embarrassed, “what I am about to say is antithetical to scientific theorem, but there are days I find myself considering kismet because I am unable to accept we found each other by random chance. You were the first person I ever felt in my mind, the first face I ever saw, and the first and only person I ever intend to love.” He pauses, feet shuffling a few times and his voice drops so that the only way she can hear him is to touch his mind. “All the other things I said earlier tonight also apply.” 

“I figured.” 

 “Wanda,” Thor’s voice and countenance maintain the Shakespearean gravitas needed for such a moment, guiding them back to the established ceremonial path. "Do you take Vision,” her eyes remain on the perennial joy of Vision’s face, “to be your husband, to cherish and protect him, to remain by his side in both moments of triumph and adversity, to live a life hallowed by your never-ending love and faithfulness?” 

Vision’s face grows blurry as her eyes fill with tears, but she refuses to let go of his hands in order to wipe them away. “I do.” 

“Excellent. Now Vision, do you take Wanda..."

The words exist only as a crackle in the back of her mind as she watches every tic of Vision’s face – the way his pupils dilate with a subtle click, the darting tip of his tongue that wets his lips whenever he is nervous, the twitching of his cheeks as he attempts to maintain some semblance of control over his emotions, and the scrunch of his nose that lets her know he’s aware she’s staring at him. Suddenly all the tell-tale signs go away and are replaced by a striking confidence and then his lips move and she hears the words a half second after she feels them in her mind, “I do.” 

“Wonderful, and now the rings. Samuel, Natasha.” Their wedding party step up, each handing a ring to Thor. “Wanda, please take the ring."

Wanda turns towards Thor and picks up Vision’s vibranium ring (their rings a very kind wedding gift from T'Challa). The ceremony dictates the officiant say the vow first, but Wanda knows it by heart, having said it dozens of times in her daydreams, so she forges on without any help. “With this ring,” she brings Vision’s hand up and begins to slide the ring along his finger, “you are now a part of me, for I love you as my soul.” His ring finishes its journey a lot smoother than any of their practice runs, something she thinks could be related to a minimal manipulation of his molecules, but she’ll lecture him on that later, far too excited to proclaim to everyone around them, “You are now my husband.” 

"Now Vision, please repeat after me." The reprimand is in good fun, but Vision still straightens up at the command, refusing to ditch tradition as enthusiastically as she does.  

It’s almost impossible not to bounce on the balls of her feet as Vision slides his left hand under hers, lifting it into position where it lines up with the simple vibranium band gripped between his thumb and index finger. Thor’s voice is drowned out by the rapid beating of her heart, so strong it vibrates her entire body, but not loud enough to stifle Vision’s own words, “With this ring,” the metal is cool on her skin as he inches it to her first knuckle, “you are now a part of me, for I love you as my soul,” they’d practiced this, with some of her other rings, a few days before they left, and just like all their practices, Vision gets the ring stuck on her second knuckle, lips pursing as she wiggles her finger in encouragement. One more push and it clinks against her engagement ring, his thumb glancing over the band. There’s an adoring smile on his face as he declares, “You are now my wife.” 

What is supposed to come next is the formal announcement, followed by a breaking of a glass, and then, finally, their kiss. Wanda, however, feels like they didn’t think through the order very well, so she eschews the plan and draws Vision to her, finally able to kiss her husband. Somewhere in the distance she can hear Thor laughing and cheers from their teammates but they are muted by the feel of Vision’s arm snaking around her waist to draw her against his chest, his head tilting ever so slightly to the right to deepen the kiss, and then, just to make sure he keeps his promise of one hell of a kiss, Vision dips her low to another round of cheers.  “I love you,” his lips brush hers as he speaks, “my wife.” 

“I love you too…hubby,” the way he chuckles enlivens her soul, sparks sputtering under her skin at his delight.  Vision pulls her back up firmly onto her feet, his hands cupping her face for one more exuberant kiss. 

“Friends,” Thor steps closer to them, “we only have two more actions and then you may relish the bliss of your nuptial oath.” Reluctantly Wanda steps back from Vision, their hands finding each other once more, only this time there’s a new sensation on his finger, a piece of metal she’s never felt, that’s new and right and perfect. “It is with great honor and joy that I,” Thor nudges them to turn towards their teammates who are standing, varying degrees of happiness on their faces, even most of the Guardians seeming to have been swept up in the moment, “present to you Wanda and Vision Maximoff.” 

Swiftly Sam lays down a glass and covers it with a towel, flashing them a thumbs up as he steps away. “Well, Maximoff,” she’s waited so long to use that name for him, and the wait was worth it, his face breaking out into a brilliant, moony radiance, “on three?” 

“On three.” 

“One, two, three,” Wanda grips his hand tighter as their feet come down on the glass, shattering it into pieces with the hope that their happiness in the years going forward will be more plentiful than what lies beneath the towel and that their love is just as irrevocable. 

Tony shouts a, “Mazol Tov!” and everyone leaves their seats.