Chapter Text
2023
Wanda glided her hands over the Darkhold, listening to the quiet whispers it made as she flipped the pages. At first she had been fearful of the book, after all it was known as the Book of the Damned, the whispers seeming frightening as she feared loosing herself. But now she could see the bigger picture, this book knew her, the true her.
She was the Scarlet Witch, the witch of pure, unfiltered, reality bending chaos, and it was the Darkhold, the book with unfavourable power. A perfect match, two halves made whole.
The Darkhold whispered insults about it’s previous master, Agatha Harkness, a witch who pretended to be ruthless and cold, only pathetically break down when the Darkhold took the one thing the witch actually cared about. She had been the one to say she would give anything for more power, for her mother to acknowledge her, the Darkhold had merely granted her wish. Wanda, shook her head at Agatha’s foolishness, she attacked nearly every witch who breathed, with no strategy, no plan.
Just a child, lashing out because of her own emotional turmoil.
The Darkhold wanted more than Westview, it wanted the World to bend to it’s power, their power, but Wanda couldn’t muster the energy to care about such things.
Do you not remember Wanda? You had planned the birth of a new world before, now you have the power to make it yours. Without some nuts and bolts telling you how to achieve it.
Wanda winced, a painful reminder of what she had lost, what Agatha had cruelly mocked. She had kept losing ever since.
Loss, Loss, Loss, LOSS.
It seemed the universe could not allow Wanda Maximoff happiness. She lost her parents, her brother, her lover, her children. She had to watch S.W.O.R.D parade around a mutilated version of her husbands corpse that was god knows where. She HAD to sacrifice her children to save an ungrateful town, a town that cursed her name despite KNOWING she had no intentions of causing the Hex.
She was tired of losing, now she wanted to take.
Can you bring them back to me? She asked fearful of the answer
Who, Wanda ? The Darkhold replied. The Vision as a robotic being is beyond my power to resurrect, he is beyond your power. Magic and technology do not mesh well. Pietro is too long gone for me to reach, his soul long since departing from this plane. Only Death herself could retrieve him.
My Children. Wanda said ruefully, her accent returning in full force. They are the only thing I have left
How can you be so sure they still exist? You created them with magic, and everything in the Hex has long since vanished.
That’s what every mother does, I know they still exist. I created their souls from nothing, renouncing the Hex will not change that. Vision may have been fake, but they, they never were.
The Darkhold was silent for a moment, pondering what it should say to its mistress. In another world, the Darkhold, seeking maximum destruction would lead Wanda to chase aimlessly in the multiverse, to chase after hundreds of copies of her children who would endlessly reject her.
This is not that universe.
We can try, Mistress.
The Darkhold searched, it was unlikely it could find anything that it’s mistress was unable to, but not impossible.
‘I am William Kaplan, I am William Kaplan’
There.
The Darkhold moved closer to the voice, pulling on the magical aura until it could see the origins of where the voice came from.
It found itself in a bedroom, full of posters of clichéd magik, something it’s previous owner revelled in. Alone, stood a teenaged boy, looking determinedly in a mirror, injury present on his face. Normally the Darkhold would be uninterested in such an ordinary sight, however the aura of the teen was unusual.
Faint whispers of a power hung on him, the powers of a baby witchling, destined to wither out with age, however the boy burned with another power, a much greater one. It was leaking off the child unstably, clearly being a recent change. The Darkhold knew this power.
This teen contained the power of Billy Maximoff. The Darkhold crept closer, confused. Surely his mistress would be able to sense such a strong presence, especially one so close to the town she wreaked havoc upon.
It spoke to the Magik surrounding the boy, gently urging it to settle down within the child. The effect was subtle, after all the Darkhold didn’t want to give away it’s presence. The Magik simmered down a little as the young Maximoff’s soul settled down more comfortably in the soul of it’s new vessel.
The Darkhold used this as a chance to creep closer, and realised why Wanda couldn’t see her son.
There was a sigil on the boy, sloppy and cast on the previous soul who owned the body. The sigil as a result was not fully functional, the boy could been seen and spoken to by witches but could not be sensed or reveal his true name.
And judging by the teens affirmation in the mirror, it appeared to have worked on himself. After all, Billy Maximoff was also a witch. And so both the previous soul’s memories and his own were hidden. What an unfortunate situation.
The Darkhold’s power flared in disgust, such potential hidden away by such a basic and clumsy spell. Considering the teen’s current condition, the Darkhold pondered on whether it should tell Wanda about this new development knowing the teen’s unstable nature would upset her, distract her.
Undecided, the Darkhold searched for Tommy.
Unlike his mother and brother, he had no affinity for witchcraft, his mother’s magical blessing instead manifesting in increased speed.
It was more difficult trying to find the other twin, namely because it was clear that the boy’s spirit was aimless, not dead so unable to cross over, but not Magik enough to find a host for himself as his brother had.
The Darkhold located the child soul, wandering aimlessly over Sokovia, far from Westview, a sign of how desperately the soul had tried to find a home that it had wandered back to his mother’s birthplace.
Wanda it whispered I found Tommy
Where is he! Wanda instantly shouted, her voice desperate
Aimless, his soul is floating over your home country, it is clear he is searching for a body. But is unable to procure one for himself. He is not Magik enough.
Then I guess we fly there, we will find him a body. Even if I have to make one. Wanda replied, her voice determined.
What about Billy? She asked quieter.
The Darkhold paused, uncertain on how to answer. Latching onto the sigil magic, it suddenly was able to view the child’s future. A vision of the boy three years from now, adorned with a crown like it’s mistress banishing three witches off the Road whilst his own power burned. A divination witch had cast the sigil then.
The Darkhold was no stranger to the Witches Road, it knew that it could immensely boost a witches power. Billy Maximoff was already incredibly powerful as the son of the witch of chaos herself, but a Billy Maximoff who had walked the Road...
Well, he might just surpass his mother in power. The Darkhold revelled in the thought of the chaos both Maximoff’s could create and made its decision.
Alive, but his connection to his new host is weak, he needs time to settle. Without our interference. It answered truthfully, It could feel Wanda’s disappointment.
But he’s my son. He needs his mother. She argued
He does. But your power is too strong, your presence alone could break the bond to his host. We will return to him once Tommy is saved.
I suppose that will have to suffice. I WILL come back to him.
……..
2024
Thomas Shepherd had lived a miserable existence.
Sokovia had been war-torn since long before he was born, divided by petty battles of power by people who were only concerned with their own wealth. The Americans had tried to end their war and had only ended up making more bodies.
Sokovia had only one claim to fame, the avenger Wanda Maximoff who had also tried to blow up their capital city and end the world. But to America she was a hero, it wasn’t surprising Thomas thought, all Sokovian’s knew was conflict.
The Avengers saved the world, America said, and yet they never saved Sokovia. They destroyed their capitol and then left, leaving the already poor nation to take the brunt of the bill and rebuild.
Thomas had lost his parents to Ultron, to the Scarlet Witch. And had been bounced around relatives ever since, some dying to sickness, more bombing, disappearing or just getting sick of him.
And now here he was, Aged 14 and utterly alone. The last of his relatives being buried in front of him, from natural causes.
It was as if Death was permanently hovering over his shoulder, touching all those near him but never killing him.
“She lived a long life, that’s rare now”
It had appeared the gossipers were at it again.
“We all thought she would live for much longer, she seemed so lively” another voice chimed in
“Well that’s what happens when you take in that cursed thing” a third voice snickered.
“SHHHH, he’ll hear” a fourth voice chimed in
“so what? It’s not like he wouldn’t know” The person replied giggling
“how is he cursed?” a new voice joined in, a neighbour Thomas noted.
“Everyone he get’s sent to either dies or disappears” There were a few other words spoken before a quiet but assertive woman spoke up.
“Aren’t you all adults? Gossiping about a child like this is pathetic. You are in a war-torn country, it’s reality, not a curse” The others gasped in offence and turned away, leaving the funeral as the woman approached Thomas.
She was dressed in nice dark green clothing, the kind rarely seen in Sokovia or rather this part of the city, dark hair framed her face as she looked at him, fascination in her hazel-coloured eyes.
“hey” She said smiling
“Want a closer look do you? Careful, you might keel over if you get too close” Thomas spat not bothering to glance in her direction, the woman laughed.
“I don’t believe in rumours spread by idle housewives. I was curious, that’s all” she replied, her tone playful.
“About the kid with Death hanging over his shoulder?” The woman laughed again
“About the kid who survived. Considering all you’ve been through you should have died, but you didn’t. That’s fascinating.” She replied, her eyes sparkling in excitement.
“you’re weird lady” She laughed again.
“So are you, little human”
“I knew that, big human” another laugh.
“I am no human little kid, I came here to ask you something. You’ve got no one left, no relatives, will you survive? Or meet their fate?...What will you do?” She asked, her smile seemingly increasingly sinister.
“You really are a freak, lady”
“I am, but not for snivelly little boys like you, or men in general” Thomas’ nose wrinkled in disgust.
“in answer to your question, I don’t know. Depends what Death has in store for me I guess”
“And if you could speak to Death, what would you say?” She probed, looking manic.
“I would ask to die” Thomas said flatly “Orphans have no future, not here”
“Wanda certainly did well”
“Wanda has killed thousands of people”
“she’s enslaved a whole American town now too. Well she had enslaved a whole town anyway” the woman said, flippantly.
“they deserved it” Thomas replied bitterly.
“You say you want to die, but you don’t mean it Thomas Shepherd. You want to leave Sokovia” he never told her his name, but he supposed the cursed Shepherd child was probably infamous.
“That will never happen though, so I’d rather die”
“You never know” the mysterious lady responds thoughtfully, before continuing
“A word of advice Thomas, if you want to live, live. Because you never know when your life can be snatched away at a moment’s notice.” The woman said jovially as she turned around to leave.
“wow thanks for that great insight lady” Thomas replied dismissing her.
“Never say what you don’t mean Tommy boy” She remarked as she left
“My name is Thomas” he scowled but the woman was too far away to hear him.
He stayed in the graveyard a bit longer, as it began to rain, Thomas remaining still as he left the rain soak his face whilst he stared up at the sky.
“what do I want, huh” He said aloud to himself as he finally left the graveyard.
He walked through the war torn city carefully crossing the roads to avoid the fast passing military vehicles and regular traffic.
“I want to die” He said to no one but himself. He knew what he was saying was a lie. Despite what he had told the woman, he wanted to live. He wanted his parents.
He was only 6 years old when they died and could no longer remember their faces. But he could remember his mother’s soothing voice, her gentle embrace, and her wishes that he would grow up strong and successful, that he would be able to provide for his children more than she ever could.
No matter how much he wanted to give up, to end his suffering, to be the one to leave rather than the one who would be left behind. He kept going, it was his mothers wish, her hope. It was his hope, he wanted to be able to leave Sokovia like Wanda, to build a name for himself without hurting thousands in the process. He would help others like him
He wanted to live.
Suddenly he felt a strong force behind him, pushing him into the road, directly into the path of a incoming tank. It was too late to move, he could only turn back to the crowd of people waiting to cross, faces etched in horror.
A woman stood in the middle, wearing a black hoodie with a singular strand of ginger hair escaping from it, she mouthed at him.
‘Wish granted’.
Thomas’s world became incredibly bright, and then incredibly dark as he heard an awful crunch.
As he slowly felt his senses disappear and the world around him fade, a singular tear escaped his eyes.
His life flashed before his eyes, ending with his mothers loving gaze.
I’m sorry mom, I messed everything up.
The last thing Thomas Shephard saw was a black palace on top of a snowy mountain, with a woman stood over an altar with bright hair.
“Goodnight Billy”
“Goodnight Tommy”