Dreamwalker
Author's Note: Enjoy the poem and R&R.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to or of the Marvel Cinematic Universe or Marvel Comics.
Summary:
Hold Vision. Hold Billy and Tommy. Darkhold. Darque Hold. Hold.
For every Wanda, a Billy and Tommy for each but her.
For every Wanda, the dream, but infinite nightmares for her.
She was entombed in her past when she should have flown to Darque Hold's throne.
Grasping under the rubble in Sokovia and feeling Pietro become a corpse.
Viz's white, lifeless body discarded by Thanos.
And white, loveless fingers trying to crush her skull.
She reflects on her reflections and their doppelgangers' reflections.
The madness of a Multiverse kind to all Wandas but her.
Why was she the only Wanda expected to sacrifice?
Why was she the only Wanda not allowed to hold the sun and her sons in her hands?
Men in suits deciding she shouldn't be free.
Women jealous she possessed too much.
Wanda, you can't have your parents.
Wanda, you can't have your brother.
Wanda, you can't have the man you love.
You can't, you can't, you can't, Wanda.
You don't have children. They aren't real.
Real?
Do not speak to her of sacrifice.
Do not speak to her of what's real.
The First Demon prophesized she'd rule. She'd annihilate.
She was cursed by him to be his hold. A vault for his old, unfathomable power.
It came from him, but the power was hers.
Until the Sorcerer Supreme, she did not know the creature's name.
She doesn't care, even after learning it.
Real!
The Scarlet Witch chose what was real and what was reality.
The monstrous pulse of her Chaos Magic flowed to her heartbeat.
The horrible cracking of her bones as she scanned and stripped minds and places she invaded bare.
Her eyes looming every universe.
Searching…hearing…yearning…
The crusade for her children.
Her witch's road.
Chthon's dark magic wrapped in flesh, carved in stone, and inked in scarlet letters.
Wanda was glass, splintering outward from her broken heart.
That sick, unholy corruption. The Darkhold taken root.
An apple grove illusion, her new Hex.
To the snow-blackened summit of Wundagore.
Black as her fingertips, oh so dark.
Please hold. Technical difficulties.
Viz. Boys. Please hold her.
Tony said no.
The world said no.
Stephen said no.
The Multiverse said no.
Wanda, you can't be happy.
Wanda, you don't have children.
But the book disagreed.
The book told the truth.
Wanda could be happy. Could be with her family.
She was done reacting. Losing everything.
She was done being called a witch by others.
She'd own it, all the prejudice and darkness it entailed.
This was her.
This was her being reasonable.