Prologue

It is said that traumatic experiences bond people. This proved all too true in the case of Pietro, Wanda, and Maia.

Maia Dimitrov was never a special girl. She grew up as many other children did in her country- inside a small, bland apartment complex surrounded by noisy neighbors that she rarely interacted with. In fact, there was only one other family she did interact with, and it wasn't under the best of circumstances.

Maia met the Maximoff twins on what was arguably the worst day of her life. It began as a normal day. She had woken up, gone to school, come home, done her chores, and helped her Mama cook dinner. It wasn't a luxurious life, but it was hers and she was happy enough to live it.

When Maia sat down to dinner with her parents that night, she never expected the walls to suddenly cave in under the weight of a great explosion. Instantly, she is separated from her parents. "Mama!" she screams, coughing through the dust in the air. "Papa!"

Explosions go off one by one, and soon she realizes that if she doesn't move soon she will be buried underneath the rubble. It's a monumental decision for a nine year old girl to make, but after minutes of screaming with no response, Maia runs out of her apartment. She runs down one flight of stairs only to discover that the next is demolished.

More screaming, except this time, it doesn't come from Maia. It's coming from a room down the hall. She follows the sound, and enters an unfamiliar room. "Hello?"

"In here! Please, help!" Maia follows the sound of the girl's voice, and sees something no young child should ever have to see. In the living room of the apartment she had entered were two mangled bodies, a man and a woman. Maia recognized them as the Maximoff parents- they had been friends of her own parents. The yelling must be coming from their children, then.

Maia ignored the corpses as best she could, maneuvering through the apartment until she reached the source of the cries. She walked into the bedroom and saw the twins huddled together underneath one of the beds in the room. She almost asks why they aren't moving, but then she sees it and stops moving herself.

On the floor, much too close for comfort, she sees an unexploded missile. "Careful," the boy warns her, and even though she did not need the warning, she appreciates it.

What are three children supposed to do in this situation? Maia was too afraid to move for fear of shifting the fragile rubble around her and detonating the explosive. The twins refused to move out from under the bed, and she couldn't very well blame them for their fear either. So very, very carefully, she sat on the ground and said the only thing she could think of- whispering, for fear that even a too-loud noise could set the bomb off.

"My name is Maia."

The twins watched her oddly for a moment- the boy being the first to speak. "I am Pietro."

"Hello, Pietro."

"My name is Wanda."

"Hello, Wanda."

Maia probably could have left, but she didn't. If the twins were to be trapped until help arrived, she would wait with them. And she did- for two days.

When help finally came, she refused to leave until Pietro and Wanda were safely out from under the bed and out of the bedroom. Only then did she follow them out.

The three never separated again.