Disclaimer: I do not own MARVEL; that credit goes to Stan Lee, Kevin Feige, and Disney.
A/N: This story will include content from Age of Ultron to Avengers: Endgame, but the story will change more and more along the way. Updates will come slowly at first, but there will be times where I have a break and can go on a multi-chapter run in a few days. Please review, and, if you have any suggestions, I might include them. Here's the Prologue for the Stark Legacy:
(Updated for edits 5/14/19)
Prologue - To Swear Revenge
It was dark. The trees were nearly bare in the little town outside of Sokovia, and a fall chill was sweeping through it slowly. A lantern placed inside a closed window barely lit the streets, but did so enough that a small girl could be seen trekking through the breeze in only rags that were a shadow of what were clothes before. The girl had long, black hair and eyes which, filled with desire and hunger, flicked to the lantern in the window. She pressed her hand up against the glass as if she could feel the flame, closing her eyes and sighing with longing.
About fifteen feet behind her, hidden behind a bench, crouched two curious twins. They'd first come to see if they could steal something off the little girl, but could now see that she didn't have a thing other then her rags. The twins watched the girl as she opened her eyes again and dropped her hand, turning around in a blur. The two twins watched, horrified, as they was a large woman step out of the shadows, her fat hand encircling the girl's arm.
"You look looost, little girl." The woman said, her voice a sing-song, "Gimme some money and I'll let you goooo."
The girl said nothing, attempting to pull away but failing. Wanda moved to help but was stopped by what happened next.
"Or I'll just get it from your parents." The woman sneered, "In exchange for yooouuu."
"Fat chance of that." The girl replied, her tone devoid of life, "They don't care if I die or not."
And in a flash, the girl lashed out, striking the larger woman on her nose. The fat lady stumbled back, cursing, as the little girl dashed down an alley and out of sight.
"You take care of the woman." The girl-twin, who had red hair, spoke to the boy, "I'll go after the little girl."
The two raced off. The redhead dashed into the alley where the little girl went and spotted a foot rounding the corner. Girl-twin pumped her legs as fast as she could, but the younger girl was too fast for her. Panting and heaving, the red haired twin slowed. Finally, she simply called out between breaths;
"Wait! Please! I - come - to - help."
There was a pause in the running footsteps and two pairs of blue eyes peered out from around the corner of a trash can. The redhead was startled by how empty the eyes looked; it was as if her eyes were once electric blue and sparkling, but now they were empty and almost a whitish blue.
"And why would you want to help me?" The voice of the eyes asked. The redhead twin was startled at how emotionless the other girl's voice sounded, but quickly reminded herself that she had been like that a time not too long ago in the past.
"Because I was in your position, once." The twin explained, "I heard you say that your parents don't care. Well, mine did, but they were killed four years ago. I was ten. So was my brother."
The pair of eyes watched.
"We've had to survive without them for awhile, now." The redhead continued, "We live on the streets, and it's hard enough with two of us. I can't imagine being alone."
"It's hard." The little girl said, "But I've always been alone, really. Even when my mother let me live with her, I was still alone."
"I'm sorry." The older girl replied honestly. The blue-eyed one laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh, it was empty; as empty as her voice and her eyes that seemed to maybe have once been truly beautiful.
"They used to say that a lot." The younger said after she stopped laughing (rather evilly), "It doesn't mean a thing."
The older girl struggled for words.
"I mean I'm actually sorry." She tried to explain, "I wish that you could have happiness. I wish nothing bad ever happened to you."
"A lot of good wishing does." The younger girl said, but she came out from behind the alley wall. The girl-twin had no reply, but edged closer to the younger as if approaching a scared animal.
"I used to feel so alone." The twin suddenly explained, "So unwanted; so uncared for. But I realized that I had Pietro, my brother, and that I was not alone."
The other girl said nothing, staring at her feet. The twin got closer.
"Maybe all you need is a friend." The older girl continued, and the younger looked up, something sparking in her eyes, "Maybe I can be that friend."
"But you don't know me." The little girl said, emotion finally seeping into her voice; sadness, tinged with a bit of hope.
"I feel like I do." The older replied confidently, "You remind me so much of myself. We have… a bond, maybe? Sisterhood? Tell me now, will you hurt me? Betray me? My brother?"
The girl with electric-blue eyes stared at Wanda Maximoff and said could honestly agree.
Three weeks later
Three small figures huddled around a small fire in the darkness of an alley. Around them, barely visible, were three makeshift beds made out of hay and a basket. As the firelight flickered, the redhead reached back and grabbed the basket.
"Time to eat." The redhead said, "Xania, you're first."
The littlest of the three grinned at the redhead, taking about a half a loaf of bread from the basket out and breaking a third off for herself. She held out the rest of the loaf to the older boy sitting next to his twin; Pietro Maximoff.
"Thank you, Xania." Pietro, who at first didn't like the idea of someone else joining them, said warmly to the littlest of the trio. Xania smiled and Pietro passed the bread to his twin sister, Wanda. Wanda took the last piece and all three started eating, savoring the taste of good bread.
"So, Xania." Pietro said after a while, "You haven't told us your story yet."
Xania froze.
"You-you haven't either." She managed to stammer out, "Not fully, at least."
"Then we'll go first if you go after." Wanda told her, "Promise?"
Xania slowly nodded, as if she was dreading what was to come.
"We were having dinner with our parents when the first shell hit the roof." Pietro explianes, his tone low, "It hit two floors down. Made a hole. Our parents fell in. I grabbed Wanda and pulled her under the bed. When the dust cleared, our parents were dead."
Xania sucked in a breath, eyes wide.
"And, beside the bed? A second shell labeled Stark." Pietro continued, his voice shaking in anger as he stared into the fire, "We waited to die. Nothing happened. We waited hours and hours until we realized that it wasn't going to explode."
He looked up to see Xania and Wanda holding onto each other like lifelines.
"We swore revenge on Stark." Pietro said, and there was a silence.
"I'm - I'm sorry." Xania mumbled quietly, now fully understanding what those words meant. Fear seeped into her demeanor, but she still straightened and opened her mouth.
"My mother was the one to raise me." Xania started, "Well, if you could call it that. I went to a public school; I walked there by myself. I went alone to the shopping mall when I needed new clothes - mind you, I only had twenty five dollars a year for them." Wanda and Pietro didn't know what dollars were, but they got the gist of what Xania was saying, "If I needed her, mother was gone. If I didn't - well, she wasn't there to help anyways."
Xania took a deep breath.
"I never liked mother, and she never really liked me. We just minded our own business and didn't spend time together. The only thing I would ask her, really, was about my father. She wouldn't say anything except that he was horrible and a drunk."
The Maximoff twins looked on the small girl with pity.
"That was the only thing we agreed on, really." Xania said, "Father. I hate him for not caring for me; for not even checking up on me to see if I was okay. I didn't know his name. Mother would never tell me. We fought over that a lot."
Another deep breath, and a nervous glance at the twins.
"One day, she told me we were going on a trip, so I should pack my things." Xania said, "I didn't have much, but what I did I shoved into by backpack and we were off. I thought that mother was finally being nice. We took a plane, and she talked to me and played games the entire way. When we landed, she told me to grab my stuff and a basket and get off the plane to see where we were. I did as she said, still so happy. When I got outside, I realized that we were in the middle of nowhere. I looked back to ask my mother if there had been a mistake only to see the plane moving away. I backed up, frightened, as it took off, mother still inside and looking away, without me."
Wanda gasped.
"I was seven." Xania muttered, "I guess she felt a little guilty, because when I looked inside of the basket to see enough food to last me a week and a note. Do you know what it said?" Xania gave out a merciless laugh, "One word. It was the answer to my biggest question. It said Stark."
This time, both Maximoff twins gasped.
"Yes." Xania finished, "I'm a Stark. Father's the Tony Stark. I sold most of my stuff after that in the nearest town - 50 miles from here - in exchange for food. Now, two years later, I'm just scavenging and swearing revenge on my father and mother."
Her eyes were haunted as she said in a meek voice; "Please don't kill me."
There was a silence.
"No." Pietro finally said, his voice so strong that both girls turned to look, "You're not a Stark; at least, not a Stark any longer."
"Welcome to the family, Xania Maximoff."