Arthur woke to the sound of laughter drifting up from the kitchen—bright, warm, and layered with voices that didn't belong to just his wife and daughter.
Not just Elena's delighted giggle or Eileen's low, melodic chuckle.
There were two others.
He checked the clock: 6:03 AM.
Of course.
Still in pajamas, in search of caffeine and quiet, he made his way downstairs. The kitchen was already alive. Eileen stood at the stove making pancakes while Elena held court at the table, animatedly recounting yesterday's shopping adventure.
And there, at the two extra places Eileen always set out of habit, sat Wanda and Pietro Maximoff.
"Arthur!" Pietro called out with a grin. "Elena says you got defeated by toy stores yesterday. How the mighty have fallen."
"Good morning to you too," Arthur said dryly, accepting the coffee mug Eileen pressed into his hands. "Don't you two have classes?"
"Winter break started yesterday," Wanda said. Her accent had faded over the years, but never disappeared. She helped Tristan with his breakfast, steady hands guiding messy baby determination. "We thought we'd surprise you."
"By breaking into my house at dawn?"
"Winky let us in," Pietro said cheerfully, stealing a pancake from the stack. "She made us wait until six, though. Said you'd turn us into toads if we woke Tris before sunrise."
"Smart elf," Arthur muttered, sitting down as Eileen placed a stack of pancakes in front of him.
Looking at the twins now, twenty years old and thriving, it was almost impossible to reconcile them with the terrified teenagers he'd once rescued. He had saved them and their parents from a Stark Industries shell in Sokovia back in 1999, sent the family to the U.S., and changed their timeline completely.
He'd believed he had rewritten their fate.
And for a while, he had.
They settled in Queens. Their parents found steady jobs. Pietro and Wanda excelled in school. For four years, life had been peaceful — almost blissfully ordinary.
Then, in 2004 - five quiet years after their rescue - tragedy struck again. Their parents were killed in a car crash on a rain-slicked highway. No sabotage. No conspiracy. Just cruel, ordinary tragedy.
Arthur had found out through his network of sources within hours. When he'd told Eileen, she hadn't hesitated.
"We're adopting them," she'd said simply.
No debate. No "what ifs." Just love, offered without condition.
Arthur agreed instantly. He refused to let them drown in grief again. He had a family now — a home where teenagers who'd already lost too much could heal. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he feared that Fate had a target painted on Wanda's back. Chaos magic bearers rarely got mercy.
Not while he lived.
Adoption was straightforward. And with Winky's tireless care and Eileen's gentle, grounding presence, the twins slowly found their footing again. They finished school. They grew stronger. They thrived.
"Wanda, how's your quantum mechanics course going?" Arthur asked, lazily spreading butter over his pancakes.
"Professor Chen says I'm his best student," she replied with quiet pride. "Though I think he's mostly impressed I actually read the optional materials."
"She's being modest," Pietro chimed in. "She's already accepted into the graduate research program. At twenty."
Wanda's cheeks flushed a soft pink. Even without the Mind Stone, she had always been brilliant.
"And you?" Arthur turned to Pietro. "Still the star of the track team?"
"Shattered three school records last month," Pietro said, trying and failing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. "Coach thinks I could make the Olympics if I wanted."
"I agree!" Elena declared. "Pietro runs like—whoosh!" Her tiny hand cut through the air dramatically, nearly toppling her juice.
Arthur chuckled. It was true. Pietro had always been fast — not superhuman-fast, not yet — but skirting the very edge of what was humanly possible. His reflexes bordered on uncanny.
Wanda, meanwhile, showed growing signs of Chaos magic awakening — sensing thoughts when she focused, controlling small objects without touching them. She concealed those abilities from everyone but family.
The twins were gifted.
Even without Infinity Stones.
Arthur had had begun training them the moment their talents surfaced — Wanda, born to wield magic; Pietro, born to fight.
"Speaking of which," Arthur said as he finished his coffee, "it's been two weeks since your last session. I want to see if university life has made you soft."
Pietro groaned. "It's winter break!"
"I'm not asking you to train," Arthur replied. "Just show me your progress."
"Can I watch?" Elena asked, practically vibrating.
"After you finish breakfast," Eileen said — though she was already smiling. She had long since accepted that "family time" in the Hayes house often involved combat training.
—
An hour later, they headed downstairs — or rather, down into what looked like a basement. In truth, it was an underground training facility that would make Fury lose sleep.
The main room was vast, reinforced with both technology and magic to contain any accidents. Training equipment lined the walls, from traditional martial arts gear to more exotic devices Arthur had "acquired" over the years.
Elena and Tristan settled on the observation platform with Eileen, safely behind reinforced barriers. Elena was already bouncing in her seat like their personal cheer squad.
"Rules are simple," Arthur said as he stretched. "You two work together. Try to land a hit on me. I'll use physical skill only — no magic, no enhanced strength."
"That's what you said last time," Pietro muttered. "Then you launched me into a wall."
"That was physics, not magic," Arthur replied. "You ran into your own redirected momentum."
"Same difference when I'm the one becoming wall art," Pietro argued.
Wanda was already moving into position, fingers sparking with a faint red glow. Pietro bounced lightly on his toes, practically vibrating with anticipation.
"Begin," Arthur said.
Pietro blurred into motion — fast, silent, deadly. His first strike came low, sliding into a knee attack, a fluid combination of techniques Arthur had drilled into him — only now delivered at near-inhuman speed.
Arthur parried with the barest shifts of weight, turning Pietro's speed against him. All that force had to go somewhere — and Arthur was more than happy to guide it.
A crimson bolt of telekinetic energy sizzled past his ear. Wanda was improving — dividing Arthur's attention, attacking with precision while Pietro delivered chaos at close range.
"Good coordination," Arthur observed, pivoting to avoid another blast and catching Pietro's kick mid-air. He vaulted over the boy's back, landing gracefully. "But telegraphing your moves. Wanda — your left shoulder drops before each attack. Pietro — still leading with the right leg."
Pietro darted forward again — a feint left, then a blur right. Simultaneously, Wanda ripped several training weights from the racks, sending them whirling at Arthur from every direction.
Arthur grinned. Now they were learning.
He slipped between the flying weights, catching one to shield himself from another, redirecting a third to force Wanda to break concentration. Pietro's punch came in blazing fast — Arthur caught his wrist, twisted — flip —
—but Pietro recovered mid-air, landing light as a cat.
"Better," Arthur said, and meant it.
The fight flowed on like a dance — twenty minutes of increasing speed and evolving strategy. The twins were syncing beautifully. Pietro created openings. Wanda exploited them. Her telekinesis funneled Arthur toward Pietro's path; Pietro's assaults pushed Arthur into Wanda's line of fire.
From behind the barrier, Elena shrieked happily at every narrow miss. "WANDA! PIETRO! KICK DADDY'S BUTT!"
Finally, it happened.
Wanda summoned a barrier right in Arthur's path — dense, invisible force that slowed him for a fraction of a second. Just enough.
Pietro slid low like a baseball player stealing home — fingertips tapping Arthur's ankle.
A hit.
"Yes!!!" Elena jumped up and down. "They got you, Daddy!"
Arthur smiled as he helped Pietro up. "Well done. You've been practicing together."
"University has a gym," Pietro said between breaths, grinning wide. "We may have… borrowed it after hours."
"Responsibly," Wanda added quickly. "No one saw anything unusual."
"I'm sure," Arthur said dryly.
He had known about their late-night training from the beginning — and had quietly instructed Eve to wipe every camera feed that showed anything abnormal. They'd never know how close they'd come to getting caught.
They headed upstairs, the twins disappearing to shower while Eileen turned her attention to lunch. Arthur watched them go with a complicated warmth in his chest — pride tangled with worry. They were good kids. Brilliant, loyal, determined.
But he remembered their canon futures. He remembered the blood and pain their names were tied to.
Fate had tried to break them once. It would not happen again.
"Stop worrying," Eileen said gently, appearing at his side as if she'd been reading his thoughts. "They're fine. They're happy."
"For now," Arthur murmured.
"That's all any of us ever have," she replied. "Now come help with lunch. Elena has detailed instructions for the cookies we're making for the neighbors."
Back in the kitchen, Elena was in full commander mode, explaining her elaborate decoration plans to the freshly showered twins. Pietro snuck handfuls of cookie dough while Wanda casually used telekinesis to remove it from his reach without even looking at him.
"Oh!" Wanda suddenly perked up. "We're still coming to the Christmas gathering, right?"
"Of course," Eileen said. "Everyone would riot if you didn't."
Arthur watched them—his daughter, his son, his wife, his found family—and for a moment, the weight of timelines and prophecies and hidden enemies faded.
This was worth protecting.
Every second of it.