Women were owned by men. It was a simple fact of the world, one that Natalia was taught very young in life. That's what all the girls in the Red Room knew; it was carved into their bones. They were just weapons, operated by Dreykov. Nothing but shiny toys, used to entice men.

Women were stronger than men. The girls at the Red Room learned this quickly too. Men were easy to manipulate. For a species that considered themselves above all else, all it took was a playful smirk or simple sentence for a Widow to destroy a regime.

They are weak, Natalia thought to herself. Ruled by the desire of their bodies. How strange that must be. For them to have control over their own anatomy.

My daughter, Dreykov claimed her, thinking that he had created her; not knowing she would break free.

My girl, Alexei named her, thinking he had raised her; not knowing she was all grown before he even met her.

My agent, Fury dubbed her, thinking he had known her; not knowing he didn't even know his organization, let alone her.

She was none of theirs. No man could ever claim her.

They all came and went from her life. A new man, a new boss, a new mission. Whether she was a Widow, an Agent, or an Avenger. The rules always came from a different man. (None of them knew that she never answered to them).

Her handler was shocked when she altered the course of action with her own plan, which was ten times more efficient. I am not your weapon, she thought.

Alexei was shocked, when she came home with bright blue hair, having never once asked for permission. I am not your child, she whispered.

Dreykov was shocked, when she abandoned his game in favour of her life. I am not your object, she snarled.

Fury was shocked, when she disobeyed his orders for the first time. I am not your soldier, she insisted.

Loki was shocked, when she was grateful for his information. I am not your victim, she smiled.

Steve was shocked, when she followed her path, her mission, instead of his. I am not your follower, she told him.

Bruce was shocked, when she pushed him into a pit to release the Hulk. I am not your lover, she realized.

Tony was shocked, when she disagreed with him on the Accords. I am not your shadow, she wanted to scream.

Ross was shocked, when she escaped his men with ease, and took her family from prison. I am not your devotee, she teased.

Somewhere, someone named Ivan was shocked, when she learned his name for the first time. I am not your daughter, she understood.

She was not any of theirs. She was not made from them. She knows that's a lie.

She wished she wasn't made by anyone. But she was.

Natasha was made through pain, blood, and tears. She was made by torment and torture. She was made from nothing, because they had stolen everything. She was made in the corners they left her in, and the darkness they locked her in. She was made of buried secrets and hidden scars. She was a body that ensured man's success.

She was made by trial and effort. She was made from desperation and desire, things they didn't know she had. She was made in the cracks they didn't notice, and the tiny lights that she found. She was made of stolen moments and secret pleasures. She was a heart made by man's failure.

She was made through passion. She was made by a woman who pulled herself from the ground. She was made by someone who fought for her everyday of her life, who was the only one to never leave her side, even when she wished she could. She was made of fights by tooth and nail. She was a mind made by a woman's perseverance.

And no man could ever take her, no matter how hard he tried.

Except.

She was made through choice. She was made by an extended hand she didn't know how to take. She was made from humanity she hadn't known was still a part of her. She was made in cramped vents and mindless games. She was made of namesakes and a new family with open arms. She was a soul made new by one man's love.

Clint wished he was shocked when she pinned him to the side of a cliff. I am not your sacrifice, she apologized.

We're partners, Clint mourned her, thinking how he loved her; not knowing just how much she loved him in return.

Natasha did not want to be made by men.

And she did not want to be owned by men.

But she was saved by one.

And she would die for one.