Strength
Ok so this primarily came about because as I was writing Trust I wanted to explore Natasha's character more but it wouldn't fit into the main story. As someone who knows her mostly from the movies rather than the comics I wanted to fit in why her characterization might be so different from one movie to the next. I can only hope I did her justice.
There is no universe where the woman now known as Natasha Romanov could be weak. By the time she adopted that name for herself she had survived so much that it was not possible. As one of the most successful living graduates of the Black Widow program she can expect things of herself that are beyond most people.
In the decades since the Black Widow program fell by the wayside it has been declared a program truly unique. Its uniqueness do not come from its methods or results. Rather it is the only program that even extremist look at the treatment of its conscripts and go 'That's fucked up'.
To survive, not even thrive but merely survive, the potential Widows had to surrender themselves completely to the training. They had no thought that wasn't put there, no memory that wasn't suspect. The very reality of the Widows was edited by doctors, by handlers, by nearly everyone. Affection beyond what was considered allowable was removed. Including Natasha there are four survivors of the Black Widow program that still live.
It was with that inherent resolve she pulled herself together as the plane landed. She pushed back the staggering blows to her reality until she could deal with the shift. Once she was somewhere safe she could allow her sense of self to shatter again so she could build up a new character in its place. One that knew of Hydra, one that understood Steve Roger's could lie, one that knew her birth name. She had been so sure she was close with Natasha.
Out of survival born habit the woman remained compliant; silently exiting the craft and following Stark's instructions even as she could hear Fury arguing. She allowed herself to be led into a comfortable but windowless room. Another woman, who glowed faintly with vitality and magic, was waiting for her.
The other woman smiled gently, "I called Astrid of Vanaheim. I have been asked by Prince Thor to ensure that your mind is untainted by the control of others. Do you understand this?"
"And if I don't want you in my head?" Natasha asked emotionlessly. She would likely have no choice in the matter but she knew that if Stark was recording this he would expect the question. She would do as she always did; play compliant, play weak until her captors showed their weaknesses in turn.
Astrid's smile dimmed, "I cannot and will not force you to allow me into your mind this is true. You could not be released however, you would be moved into seclusion until the group who controlled you previously is wiped out."
"I was cleared of triggers by SHIELD"
Astrid nodded, "Lord Stark spoke of this. He wishes me to convey that the…psychiatrist?...who cleared the brainwashed victims before was working for the enemy. Thus all of her findings were suspect. I and my siblings will be checking over everyone."
"And what's in it for you?" Natasha allowed her tone to grow suspicious.
"While we are obligated to assist Prince Thor as the grandson of our King it is true that I did wish to be a part of this for reasons of my own." Her words almost took on a glow of their own they were so fiercely believed in. "All eyes have turned to Midgard, this tiny little place so far from anywhere. Your warriors have succeeded in impressing the Asgard, no mean feat. Your kind fight over petty trivialities and still you do what few other could and beat back the Chitauri. It is even whispered that the 'Star Lord', the one who can handle the infinity gems without ill effect was born of this place. To my years you are all so very young and yet…this is a place where the future's heroes begin. To be a part of that, even an unnamed part is beyond description."
The frank honesty of the speech is far more soothing than Natasha would admit to. She lets herself relax slightly. "I am no hero" she denies.
"Because of what you did while controlled" Astrid responded kindly. It was not quite a question "In my realm one person controlling another is…not common but not unknown either. It is deeply frowned upon to use ones power this way. In our laws it is written that the responsibility for crimes committed falls on the one in control, not the one who acts. Your actions are not yours until we have cleared your mind of foreign control."
Natasha considered this. Letting anyone into her head made her skin crawl but it was better this being than anyone from earth. That Astrid was not just acting from professed altruism but had was getting something out of the arrangement also helped. It was always more difficult to trust someone who says they acting without any self-interest.
Astrid continued to wait patiently until finally Natasha nodded. The older woman politely didn't mention Natasha's visible reluctance. It was the work of a moment, almost instinctual, that brought them into an entirely different place.
At first glance the room they were standing in was like a cross between a martial arts studio, a ballet stage, and an old dusty living room. Only it wasn't a smooth transition. It looked as though the landscapes had been smashed together with great force. The floors overlapped, all jagged edges and pushing seams. The walls were rife with wide cracks. Through each crack there were images, scenes frozen in time. An old woman's face here, a ballroom there. Some of the cracks were covered with heavy dark cloth's that made Natasha feel a soul deep fear; it was strange though that Natasha knew where each crack lay hidden or not.
"Oh child" Astrid breathed in horror, "what did they do to you?" She was looking around the broken landscape with teary eyes and a hand covering her mouth.
It struck Natasha then exactly where they were, "We're in my mind" she stated.
The blank statement seemed to rouse Astrid. "We are" she replied, "You're resiliency is nothing short of remarkable, you know. You're controllers overlaid so many realities, conflicting realities at that, over your own that you should be little more than a vegetable."
Natasha felt a jolt that shook the room they stood in. "Can you tell which the real one is?" Her tone was still carefully modulated. Even within the depths of her own mind she could not let go of her control.
Astrid looked back at her, "Yes" she stated simply, "After we finished making sure no one is being controlled I can help show you which memories are yours. For now though we must remove the triggers that those monsters set, ok?"
Natasha could only nod and watch as Astrid went to work.
