BLOODY BALLERINA ▹ barnes-romanoff ✓

двадцать два. (mid-credits scene)

Be careful of the girl, there's a fire burning behind her eyes. She makes kingdoms fall - and monsters wish they'd never been born.

Natasha Romanoff isn't Natasha Romanoff tonight.

Red bangs are falling over a pale forehead and red locks hang down her black-covered back. A gun is gripped in her right hand and a lighter is in her left. Her green eyes refuse to accept the shininess of tears yet her lips refuse to hold anything close to a smile. After all, she is simply a seventeen year old Russian girl whose child was just stolen away from her.

Or that is how she feels.

The sky is stretched out like a thick black blanket and the stars act like little torn holes within the spread. The moon is full and its color is a dark wine red, illuminating her face just as it should. Her green eyes look violent with the wine red that shines above and the fire red that shines across. There is a tragic mix of blood and dirt covering her hands. It doesn't bother her. In fact, she rather likes the feel of the two coating her wrists and her cut palms. Her fingers are still trembling from the action that took place only moments ago.

A grave that laid empty for thirteen years is no longer empty.

Oh yes, Natalia Romanova found a way to fill the grave that was said to be her child's.

When she was younger and she had only just been found by Clint, she hadn't ever wanted to return to the Red Room Academy. In fact, when there was a mission in order to take them down, she had refused to take part. After all, it wasn't as if she knew the specific location as the girls were never given the exact specifications. During the most early of missions, they would put black bags over the girls' heads to ensure they didn't see what landmarks they passed.

Still, everyone knew that if she had wanted to find out, she could have. It had scared her far too much to even dare thinking about returning. It still scares her even as the towering mansion blazes with fire before her eyes and the lighter is still hot within her hand. The fire stretches up so far until the point that it nearly looks like the flames are licking the sky.
Bodies of the men and women who had raised her lay within the burning place. It wasn't punishment for the sins committed against her, necessarily. No, no, it was punishment for the sins committed against Svetlana. They should have known better. They should have known never to touch her daughter.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

A man walks up behind Natasha with a solemn expression on his light features. He secures his bow over his back, settling it by his quiver. Clint Barton has been Natasha's best friend and ally ever since he turned her in Budapest all those years ago. She didn't ask him to join her when she left the country; he just, sort of, appeared as he always does when his friends are in need. And he had her back when they took the Academy down and he stood by her when she put a bullet through the Madame's head.

She keeps her head tilted slightly back and her red brows dipped as she continues to stare at the fire. Clint knows Natasha won't be ready to leave until the fire is completely burnt out and he's completely content with waiting for her until it is. She still does not look at him as he glances over at her and then rests an arm over her shoulder.

"Yeah," she responds, running her tongue over the line of her top teeth, "Not better. But..." they finally meet eyes and the woman shrugs a little, "still okay."

Clint crosses his arms over his chest, still watching his best friend, "Svetlana..." he scrunches his mouth and nods thoughtfully, "It's a good name."

Natasha doesn't respond for a beat, "She seemed to like it. She said he chose it."

"He's more than I gave him credit for," Clint admits of the Winter Soldier, having previously disliked the idea of the assassin who stole his best friend's younger heart.

"Yeah, well, I don't know what he is," Natasha looks from the fire and off into the darkness where she knows the father and daughter are, hopefully safe, hopefully running.

"Did you expect her to be here?"

"I had hoped so," Natasha concedes raspily, sitting down into the barren ground beside the unmarked grave that she once thought was Svet's, "Nah. He wouldn't take her back here. He wouldn't dare. I wouldn't either."

Clint nods a little, sitting down into the dirt beside her. They sit in silence for a few more moments, one supporting the other as they watch the burning of a building that for so long imprisoned young girls.

Natasha finally speaks up again, a dark expression slicing onto her face, "I just hope Svet never finds out."

"About the training," Clint quietly deduces, resting his elbows on his knees.

"The truth would hurt her. And that poor girl has already been hurt enough."

The flames and shadows paint strange pictures upon the pair's faces as the words are carried up above their heads.

"She never needs to know... that all of it was just something those monsters put into her head, that her only happiness those years was just some means to control her by, a way for them to mold her brain," the man watches the woman who looks hundreds of years old as she whispers out the words, "Svetlana never needs to know the truth that she never was a ballerina."

AHHHH! THAT'S RIGHT, FOLKS! Svetlana was never trained as a ballerina, it was all in her head! It's kind of a plot twist because her HYDRA name and the entire book title is based on a LIE! Here's a quick reasoning: It was another method to control her by - making up a past for her so that they could manipulate her mind. It also saved a lot of time as they went in and trained her within her brain. Her poor little head has been so screwed with - it's going to have some serious repercussions later, I swear.

Fun fact: In some Marvel theories, it is said that Natasha was never a ballerina and that just totally inspired this. Also, Fan963 made me think of including Clint in this chapter so thanks for that, Friend! 

NOW GIVE ME YOUR THOUGHTS!

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