This origin story is in no way affiliated with Marvel Comics or Marvel Studios. The contents of this story will contain a mixture of comic background, as well as that which has been revealed to date in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but may be considered entirely canon-divergent.
Chapter One
"Even death has a heart." — Markus Zusak (The Book Thief)
Volgograd, Russia — 1987
The Romanov family home was a peaceful one. At exactly five o'clock each evening, Avdotya Romanova would put supper on the stove and Alian Romanov would return home to his family. Little Natalia Romanova would sit at her mother's feet, playing with a small doll her father had once made for her shortly after she had been born. Together, they would eat supper at the kitchen table and Alian would tell his wife about his day while asking Natalia about hers. The little girl would babble on about her three-year-old adventures while Avdotya would fill in the blanks that Natalia left out.
Life in the Romanov family home could not have been much simpler. There was a mother and her child; a father with a steady job, a wife, and a daughter he could dote on; and a little girl whose only care in the world was which ribbon would go best with her Sunday dress. Despite living under the ever-watchful eye of the Soviet Union, there was no reason to think that anything could change the Romanov family's quiet lifestyle.
It was late one December night when Alian and his wife were just getting ready for bed. Natalia had been put down for the night, snuggled safely in her bed under a homemade quilt, her doll tucked securely in her arms. As they did every night, both mother and father kissed their daughter goodnight and closed the door, ready to settle in for the evening. This night had been no different. Alian read an old copy of an English newspaper, The Moscow News, and did a crossword he had been working on for some time with his feet resting on the coffee table. Avdotya would sit nearby, reading a novel, eyeing her husband each time she saw his feet return to the wooden surface after gently reprimanding him. They had retired together at an early hour and slowly made their way to their bedroom.
"Oleg spoke of leaving again today," Alian said suddenly, startling Avdotya, who sat in front of her vanity to brush her hair.
"Alian! The walls have ears!" she chastised.
It was dangerous to speak too freely, even in one's home. The KGB were always listening. Phones were monitored and apartments were bugged. But Alian often spoke out, against his wife's warnings. They rarely argued but Alian knew that she disapproved. He shook his head.
"Dunya, the rations are only getting worse. Oleg thinks that if we try to leave, we might find a better life in the West. What about Natalia? Don't you want her to have a better life than this?"
The simple life of the Romanov family was just that: simple. But life under the careful guard of the Soviet Union was a risky life to live too. In such a militarized state, one had to be careful where and how far they stepped. It was not idyllic but it was a life. Still, it didn't keep some from wondering what would be waiting for them on the other side of Russia's iron curtain. Alain was one of them and the men he worked with were likeminded. Avdotya turned around and glared, a gaze that could make many men shrink in fear. Her hair was the same colour as the fire in her soul, Alain often said.
"Alain, stop. Whatever Oleg says, that is Oleg. We have a good life here. We have a safe life. Natalia will grow up with a warm home and food in her belly. You work hard, Alian. You provide for her here. What do you think will happen if we try to leave? What will happen to Natalia then?"
The couple fell silent and Alian sighed. His wife was right, as she always was. He worked hard to provide his family with the money to live a comfortable life. There was always food on the table, no matter how little. They had a roof over their heads and heat to keep them warm. They did not live in Moscow, where the better wealth was, but they did well. And they had Natalia. She was the light of their lives and that was something to be thankful for.
"I want мой маленький паук to grow up well," Alian lamented.
Avdotya stood slowly and crossed the room to where her husband stood. She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed his cheek.
"Natalia will grow up well with you as her father. You will protect her, Alian."
He pressed a kiss to his wife's head and enveloped her into a hug. Avdotya nestled her head into his chest and together they settled into bed for the night. They were in silent agreement — they would not speak of this again. They could not risk the consequences of the KGB overhearing them. They had been lucky so far. They had no way of knowing if it would ever last.
Avdotya woke to the smell of smoke and the feeling of her lungs struggling for air. She blinked slowly, roused by the intensity of the heat in their small apartment. She sat up with a start, coughing as the smoke continued to smother her. Their room was still dark but the smoke was seeping in through the crack beneath the door. She coughed again, shaking her husband.
"Alian! Alian, there's a fire!"
The smoke was too thick and Avdotya could see the flickering light from the flames from underneath the bedroom door. She shook her husband again but got no response. She placed a hand over his mouth and nose. She felt nothing.
"Alian! Alian, get up!"
She shook him violently, trying to rouse him from a sleep he would not wake from. The smoke had taken him faster. Somehow she had woken first and now she was trapped, alone in their room. In her panic, another thought struck her:
Natalia.
It wasn't long before she heard the strangled wail of her daughter from the next room. While the sound normally would have caused Avdotya's heart to stop in fear, this time it was with relief. A scream meant that Natalia was still breathing. She threw back the covers and ran towards the door in just her bare feet and a nightgown. She went to grasp the doorknob and gasped when the hot metal burnt her hand. She felt tears forming in her eyes but she couldn't waste another second on the pain. She looked around and saw a towel hanging over the edge of the empty washing basin. She grabbed it and forced the bedroom door open with her hands safely wrapped in the towel. The sight that greeted her was terrifying.
Flames licked at the walls, travelling across the floor towards her bedroom door. Avdotya stepped out into the hallway, nearly choking on the smoke that continued to force itself down her throat and into her nose. She rushed forward, nearly tripping over her own feet, desperately trying to make it to Natalia's room. The little girl was screeching for her father now. Avdotya grasped the doorknob with the towel and pushed against the door with her shoulder. As she forced it open, she heard a devastating crack and dove forward just as the doorframe collapsed around her. She looked up from the floor and saw Natalia in her bed, doll clutched to her chest, staring at her with terror in her hazel eyes.
"Come here, Natalia," Avdotya called out softly, trying to calm the puffy-faced girl as she pulled herself to her feet.
Natalia ran straight into her arms. Avdotya lifted her onto her hip and pressed a kiss to her daughter's red curls. She could feel the heat of the flames on her back and knew they were never going to leave this room. She looked over her shoulder and the fire had already completely devoured the doorframe, filling the hallway outside. Soon, it would fill the room and they would both perish. Avdotya whimpered. She had prayed for so long for a better life for her family, no matter how many times she told Alian that they were just fine as they were. And this was their punishment. They had been heard, not by God, but by the KGB. No one would ever know who was behind the fire. It would be written off as an accident, an unfortunate kitchen fire or a gas leak. No one would know their names. No one would know that a three-year-old girl had died here. Avdotya held her daughter tightly. In her arms, Natalia squirmed, coughing. Her tiny lungs could not take much more.
Avdotya could not just let her child die here. She was innocent; too innocent.
She rushed to the window and lifted it open. The cold winter air rushed in and for a brief moment, they could breathe. But it did not last for long. The smoke was still overwhelming, even with a new way of escape. Avdotya looked down. They were on the third floor of their building. There was no way of jumping without breaking both of their necks. It was then that Avdotya saw the flashlights coming their way. The flames were making their way into the bedroom. Avdotya screamed for help.
"Dunya?" a voice called up.
"Ivan!"
Avdotya sighed with relief. Down below, a group of men were staring up at her. They exchanged words quickly and one man — Ivan — nodded.
"Throw her down! We will catch her, I promse!"
Avdotya blinked, taking a moment to realize what he meant. Natalia was looking up at her with wide eyes that stung from the smoke. Avdotya took a deep breath. It was a mother's worst fear: an impossible decision in order to save her child. Dropping her child from the third storey of a burning building was no less dangerous than trying to force their way through the fire itself. What if Ivan missed? What if Natalia—
No, she couldn't think like that. If there was even the smallest chance of saving Natalia, she had to take it.
"Наташа," Avdotya murmured.
Natalia looked up at her mother.
"You're going to fall a long way," she explained. Natalia started squirming even more, mouth open as if to start screaming. "No, Natalia. It's the only way. Ivan is below. You remember Ivan? He's a friend. He will catch you."
And then she called down to Ivan, blocking out her daughter's cries. She couldn't listen. She couldn't listen to the words coming from her daughter's mouth. Don't, Mама, don't! Over and over, Natalia screamed.
And then Avdotya let her fall.
Strong arms caught Natalia. Her screams did not stop, however. She wanted her mother. She had her doll in a death grip, having refused to let go of it the entire time. She sobbed into the doll's hair, the yarn itchy against her cheek.
"Hush, Natalia. No need for that noise."
Natalia sniffled and as soon as she closed her mouth, she hiccuped. She looked up at the man holding her. He had a long beard and dark eyes. They were not gentle like her father's. They were hard and cold, like the ground below.
She suddenly looked up, back toward the apartment building.
"Mама?" she asked in a tiny voice.
Where was her mother?
"We must go now, Natalia."
Carrying Natalia in his arms, Ivan began walking away. Natalia struggled against him. Where was her mother? Where was her father? Why was this man taking her away? She wailed again.
"Mамочка!"
All the while, Ivan kept walking. At one point, he stopped and turned, calling out to the men behind him.
"Make sure the building burns to the ground. The KGB wants no trace of it left behind. Don't rescue anyone who has not already made it out. Volgograd will soon forget the Romanovs."
And then he continued on his way. His heavy footsteps crunched through the snow underfoot. Natalia shivered in her nightgown, hugging her doll to her chest. She had called out two more times for her mother but even then, she did not appear. The apartment disappearing behind them and soon they were at the side of the road, waiting for a black car that pulled up beside them. Ivan opened the door and placed Natalia in the backseat. He paused, looking down at her doll, and promptly pulled it from her hands.
"You won't be needing this anymore."
He tossed it to the ground where it fell into a gutter.
Ivan got into the passenger's seat and all went quiet. Natalia began to cry again, muffling her tears with her sleeve. As the car pulled away, she struggled to look out the window. Off in the distance, she could still see the orange flames. Her father had not come. Her mother had not come. And so Natalia screamed again, pulling at her hair and kicking the seat in front of her. Ivan cursed and tried to silence her but Natalia would not be persuaded. Eventually, she felt something rip away in her hands. She looked down at the lock of hair in her hands, as orange as the flames behind them. She tossed it onto the floor of the car and balled her little hands into fists.
The last thing Natalia could remember of that night was the sound of a tortured woman calling out her name.
* мой маленький паук — my little spider
* Наташа — Natasha
* Mама/Mамочка — mama