Wanda Maximoff Multiversal Harem Hunter

The countryside of Sokovia stretched out before Wanda Maximoff like a forgotten painting. The hills, once vibrant with wildflowers and wheat, now lay bare and scorched. The skeletal remains of her childhood village clung to the earth, houses crumbling into themselves as though they were ashamed of what they had witnessed. Smoke hung faintly in the air, a scent that mixed with the decay of time. Wanda tightened her grip on the Chitauri Scepter, the weapon thrumming faintly in her hand, as though urging her onward.

Her boots crunched against the gravel road leading to her home. Each step felt heavier than the last, a weight pressing down on her chest. The memories of running down this very road with Pietro assaulted her senses. She could almost hear his laugh, teasing her for always falling behind. Wanda closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, as though the act could drown out the echoes of a past she could never return to.

When she opened her eyes again, she stood in front of what was left of her family's house. The once-bright red shutters now hung askew, their paint peeling like the dried skin of a forgotten wound. The roof sagged dangerously, and broken glass littered the front step. Wanda hesitated, her breath catching in her throat.

"This is where it all began," she murmured.

Yes, came the familiar voice of the symbiote, smooth and unwavering. And where it must begin again.

Wanda pushed open the door, the creak of rusted hinges breaking the oppressive silence. The air inside was stale, thick with dust and memories. The living room was just as she remembered it—at least in shape. The furniture lay overturned, the walls were scorched black in places, and debris littered the floor. She moved cautiously, her eyes scanning for anything familiar.

Her gaze fell on a shattered picture frame lying face down near the fireplace. She bent to pick it up, brushing away the dust and shards of glass. The photo inside was faded but intact. Her younger self smiled back at her, arms wrapped tightly around Pietro. Their parents stood behind them, their mother's warm smile and their father's strong, protective stance radiating love and safety.

Wanda's knees buckled, and she sank to the floor, clutching the frame to her chest. Tears spilled freely down her cheeks as she whispered, "I'm so sorry, Mama... Papa. I couldn't protect any of you."

The symbiote pulsed faintly against her skin, its tendrils wrapping around her arm in what felt like a gesture of comfort. They are gone, but you are still here. You must rise above this.

"I don't even know who I am anymore," Wanda replied, her voice breaking. She glanced at the scepter in her hand, its glow faint but steady. "Everything feels like it's falling apart, and yet... I keep going. Why? How do you know what I need before I do?"

All will be made clear in time, the symbiote replied cryptically. You must trust in the path ahead.

Wanda frowned, frustration mingling with her grief. "Who sent you to me? Why are you guiding me?"

The symbiote remained silent for a moment, and then its voice returned, calm and composed. When the time is right, the truth will be revealed.

Her fingers tightened around the picture frame. "I don't know if I can wait that long."

The faint sound of a click beneath her feet interrupted her thoughts. Wanda blinked, glancing down. A floorboard was slightly raised, just enough to catch her attention. She reached out, prying it loose with her fingers. Beneath was a small, battered metal box. Her heartbeat quickened as she opened it.

Inside were photographs and letters, some worn with age. Among them was an envelope with her and Pietro's names scrawled across it in unfamiliar handwriting. Wanda hesitated, her fingers trembling as she unfolded the letter.

To my children, it began. If you are reading this, it means I am no longer able to protect you. But know this—I have always loved you both, more than anything in this world. One day, you will find me. When that day comes, we will fight together to reclaim what has been taken from us.

Wanda's breath caught. Her mind raced as she reread the words, trying to comprehend their meaning. "He's alive," she whispered. "My father... he's alive."

The symbiote stirred. This is significant. The answers you seek lie beyond this place.

Before Wanda could process further, the sound of boots crunching on gravel outside shattered the moment. She shot to her feet, the letter clutched tightly in her hand. The scepter hummed faintly in warning. They are here.

The door splintered inward, and Hydra soldiers poured into the room, rifles aimed and ready. Their leader, clad in sleek black armor, stepped forward, his voice cold and mechanical. "Wanda Maximoff. By order of Hydra, you are to be taken in. Surrender now, or be eliminated."

Wanda's lips curled into a smirk. "You came all this way for me? I'm flattered."

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," the leader replied, his tone laced with disdain. "Your powers mean nothing against Hydra."

"Funny," Wanda shot back, her crimson eyes glowing. "I was just about to say the same thing to you."

The soldiers opened fire, but Wanda was ready. Chaos energy flared from her hands, creating a crimson barrier that deflected the bullets effortlessly. With a flick of her wrist, she sent a wave of energy crashing into the soldiers, knocking them off their feet.

Her movements were a blur as she darted through the room, the symbiote guiding her with precision. She disarmed one soldier with a tendril of crimson energy before sending another flying into a wall. The air was filled with the sound of gunfire, screams, and the crackle of her magic.

The leader barked orders, his voice cutting through the chaos. "Regroup! Don't let her escape!"

Wanda turned to face him, her eyes blazing. "Escape? I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why you're here."

The leader raised a hand, and a pulse of energy shot out, striking Wanda in the chest. She staggered back, the impact forcing the air from her lungs. The symbiote absorbed most of the blow, but the force was enough to shake her.

The leader advanced, his confidence palpable. "You think you're special? You're just another failed experiment. Hydra always wins."

Wanda growled, her chaos magic flaring as she rose to her feet. "You don't know what I am."

With a roar, she unleashed a torrent of energy, the scepter amplifying her power. The symbiote coiled around her, its tendrils lashing out at the soldiers who dared to approach. The leader faltered, his bravado crumbling as Wanda closed the distance between them.

She seized him by the collar, her voice low and dangerous. "Who sent you?"

"The King of Sokovia," he rasped, his eyes wide with fear. "He... he said you were a threat to Hydra's plans."

Wanda's grip tightened. "The King of Sokovia works for Hydra?"

The leader nodded weakly. Wanda's jaw clenched as she released him, letting his body slump to the floor. She turned toward the door, her mind racing. The King of Sokovia—a man she had once thought of as a protector of her people—was nothing more than a puppet.

As she stepped out into the village, the weight of the discovery settled over her. The photograph of her family weighed heavily in her pocket, a reminder of what had been taken from her. Hydra had destroyed her past, and now they sought to control her future.

But she wouldn't let them.

"They think they can stop me," she muttered, her grip tightening on the scepter. "They're wrong."

The symbiote's voice whispered in her mind, steady and reassuring. You are stronger than they can imagine. You will prevail.

Wanda glanced back at the ruined house one last time before turning toward the horizon. The King of Sokovia would answer for his betrayal, and Hydra would fall—piece by piece.

She walked away, the fires of resolve burning in her chest. Sokovia's future would be hers to shape, and no one—not Hydra, not the King—would stand in her way.