Author's note: Natasha Romanoff is one of the most interesting characters in the Marvel universe. Her past excites me very much with it's possible storytelling opportunities, so I decided to take a crack at it, starting from the beginning. This will be a long, multi-chaptered fic. PLEASE NOTE: I have only read wiki and wikia pages about Natasha's youth and the following is *my* version of how it went down. You could say it is slighly AU, but isn't every fanfic? Anyways, enjoy. I recommend listening to music from the Russian ballet while reading this.

Ivan Petrovitch cradled the crying infant uncertainly, bouncing her on his knee. This was a motion he had not performed in many years and yet the familiar movement brought back dusty memories from his youth.

This responsibility, this bundle of apparent joy had somehow fallen into his hands when he had rescued her from that burning building. A child of the battlefield, he thought. She was not his, he reminded himself as he tried to distance himself from the expectant gaze of her large green eyes. And yet with every incoherent sound she made, every wiggle and every insistant squeeze of his finger coming from her little fist, he felt his gaurd come down.

Natalia Romanova. The only trace of identity the little bundle had.

There she was in his hands, small, still oblivious to the disaray of her surroundings and her country. Orphaned in a war torn land with no family or protection to her name. She would end up at the agency no doubt, one way or another. But he could see very clearly that she would perish without him. And so as he soothed her shock of red hair, singed at the ends from the fire, he wondered if he was ready to shoulder the responsibility of fatherhood for the second time in his life.

He preferred not think about his first child, the ensuing disasters, the tradgedy. It was a time in his life that he had successfully built barriers around, a time of loss that he tried to erase every time he picked up a glass of vodka. He did not wish to repeat it.

As if by protest, Natalia began to cry loudly, her face scrunching up in displeasement, emitting a loud noise not at all relative to her size.

"Shh," he whispered, "Please don't cry, Natalia. It'll be okay." He began to murmur the words of a Russian lullaby.

Bayu-bayushki-bayu,

Nye lozhisya na krayu,

Pridyot serenkiy volchok

I ukhvatit za bochok.

On ukhvatit za bochok

I potashchit vo lesok,

Pod rakitovyi kustok.

Natalia calmed, not quite soothed but her cries dimmed to subtle sounds of disgruntlement as she listened, more fascinated than amused. He repeated it again, this time in English.

Baby, baby, rock-a-bye

On the edge you mustn't lie

Or the little grey wolf will come

And will nip you on the tum,

Tug you off into the wood

Underneath the willow-root.

Silence fell again as both the man and child were quiet. The girl frowned at him, as if already judging whatever his next move may be.

This one will have a temper, thought Ivan.

He will be a guardian, he decided, not a father. He would look after her during the day and put her to sleep at night. He would provide her with the tools she needed to become self sufficient. He would enroll her in the agency as soon as she was old enough. There was no need to become attached. His role would be a protector. Not much different than being a soldier.

The baby cooed. Ivan sighed.

That was the first chapter! Tell me what you think!