Wanda

What if...

In the chaos following Ultron's ****, while the Avengers were still nursing the wounds of the Battle of Sokovia, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark gathered in the Avengers Tower war room. Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, sat on the floor, her eyes blank, her body shaking from the chaotic magic she had lost control of. She was no longer the girl Pietro had been; her grief, rage, and boundless power had driven her to the brink of madness.

"This girl is destroying herself," Tony said, looking worriedly at the holographic monitors. "Her magic is like a time bomb. We can't contain her."

"She's one of us. But... she needs someone to heal her soul. Someone beyond Earth."

Thor, who had just returned from Asgard, entered the room. Her red cloak and hammer still bore the marks of war. “Wanda… she is like my mother. Powerful, but broken. Frigga, Queen of Asgard, can save her. My mother knows ancient magics that even Vision does not understand.”

Wanda was taken to Asgard by the Befrot. A rainbow bridge appeared in the golden sky and carried her to the palace of Valhalla. Frigga, with long golden hair and kind blue eyes, was waiting in the great hall. The Queen of Asgard, mother of Thor and Loki, was dressed in a white and silver robe, a halo of divine light shining around her.

“My daughter, come to me,” Frigga said softly, reaching out her hands to Wanda. Wanda, still in shock, took shaky steps. The Avengers departed and the golden doors closed.

Days passed. Frigga took Wanda to the gardens of Asgard, where golden apple trees shone and starry rivers flowed. But Wanda would not eat, she would not sleep. Her chaos magic erupted at night, shaking the walls. Frigga knew that earthly magic needed Asgardian roots.

One night, in the queen's private chamber, Frigga laid Wanda on a silken bed. "You are like a lost child, Wanda. Your strength comes from sorrow, but sorrow can be washed away with love."

"I have lost everything," Wanda whispered with tearful eyes. "Pietro... Ultron... myself."

Frigga smiled kindly and pulled aside her white robe. Her breasts, filled with the divine milk of Asgard, were revealed - milk that nourished not only the body but the soul. This was the ancient custom of Asgard; Queens raised their adopted children with their own milk, so that the magic of the gods would flow through their veins.

“Come, my daughter. Drink and rest.” Frigga pulled Wanda into her arms, bringing her head close to her breast. Wanda resisted at first, but her spiritual hunger gave in. Her lips pressed against Frigga’s nipple, and the milk flowed warm, sweet, and shining like star honey.

Each sip soothed Wanda’s chaos magic. The images of Pietro faded in her mind, replaced by the golden light of Asgard. Frigga stroked Wanda’s red hair and sang an old lullaby: “Sleep, child of light, in the arms of the eternal mother.”

Days turned into weeks. Each night, Wanda returned to Frigga’s breast, drinking milk and gaining new strength. Her magic now glowed red and gold, a combination of the chaos of Earth and the magic of Asgard. Frigga cared for her like a real daughter: bathing in magical springs, stories of Loki and Thor as children, and training in power control.

When Wanda finally returned to Earth, she was stronger than ever. The Avengers saw her—her eyes calm, but filled with divine fire. Thor smiled, “My mother is always the best nurse.”

Wanda kissed Frigga’s hand and whispered, “You have become my mother.”

And in Asgard, Frigga looked up at the stars and knew that a red witch was now part of her family.