[the fallout implies that she made a mistake, and people were unwilling to forgive her. they saw her pain, felt it, raw and unbridled, and they still deigned her a monster. a sokovian without a home, nationality scratched out of all documentation, only to be found on some accords that no longer exist .

sometimes, it's like she doesn't exist. wanda maximoff, terrorist. people looked at her pain and said she was not worth the sympathy.

and so she had fled, removed herself from everyone, bruised and grieving the loss of her children. it didn't matter that she had made them with magic, she was a mother, and even now she struggles to reconcile the fact that she will never see them again. all the wandas across the multiverse, and she's the only one completely, and utterly, alone.

how is any of it fair?

wanda stands, takes a few steps away from the bench they were sat at. the crunch of grass under her boots, the swell of the breeze on her hair, the rough cloth of the sleeves on her arms against her skin.]

I found a witch there in Westview. She read me a prophecy about who I was, what my powers were — my magic.

[this is chaos magic, wanda. that makes you the scarlet witch.

echoes of a world past.]

I'd brought Vision back. In the perfect little world I created, we had boys. [she turns to face him, just over her shoulder, knowing she's skipping so much context.] Twins.

[she shakes her head, a gust of air her sigh as her shoulders slump.]

I gave them all up. Because it was the right thing to do, to set things right. Just not — ever — for me.

[every sacrifice she's ever made, all amounting to nothing in the end.]