Wanda's eyes tracked across the arrivals, cataloging details with the precision of someone who'd spent too long in hostile territory. The Republic ship. The Jedi robes. The tactical gear. But it was the blur of silver-blue motion at the edge of her vision—movement so familiar it was practically muscle memory—that made her breath catch.
Then she heard the voice. That distinctive accent, equal parts charm and irritation, speaking rapid-fire to someone about "hostile reception" and "unnecessary complications."
"Pietro!"
The name exploded from Wanda's lips. She released Illyana and Merlin so abruptly the girls stumbled, and then she was running—not using chaos magic to fly or teleport, but actually running like a normal person for the first time in months, feet pounding against Dathomir's red earth.
"Wanda!"
Pietro's answering shout carried pure joy, pure relief, pure love. He was already moving, closing the distance with superhuman speed, and they collided in the middle of the landing pad hard enough that Pietro actually lifted her off the ground, spinning once before setting her down but never letting go.
They were both crying. Wanda didn't even try to hide it, burying her face in her brother's shoulder while his arms wrapped around her like he was afraid she'd disappear if he loosened his grip.
"It's really you," Pietro choked out, his usual quick-fire delivery reduced to broken fragments. "We searched everywhere—every system, every lead, I thought—"
"I know." Wanda pulled back just enough to look at his face, one hand coming up to cup his cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for making you worry."
"You better be." Pietro's laugh was half-sob. He pressed his forehead against hers in that gesture that had been theirs since childhood, when words weren't enough. "Never again, Wanda. We're two halves of a whole. We don't separate. Not ever again."
"Never again," she whispered back.
They stood like that for several heartbeats, the rest of the galaxy fading into insignificance. Then, because they were Maximoffs and emotional vulnerability had time limits, they simultaneously stepped back and tried to compose themselves.
It lasted approximately three seconds before they noticed the others watching.
"Well," said a familiar voice—young, amused, carrying that Jedi confidence Wanda had heard so many times in Asajj's memories. "That was touching. I'm honestly a little jealous of the whole twin thing."
Wanda's head snapped toward the speaker, and recognition clicked into place. Anakin Skywalker. The Chosen One. The Padawan who'd defeated Asajj multiple times and earned her grudging respect slash murderous resentment.
Beside him, Obi-Wan Kenobi smiled with genuine warmth. "I'm glad you've found each other, Ms. Maximoff. Your brother has been quite determined in his search."
The third figure stepped forward—Earth clothes, red-lensed glasses, distinctive cane. Wanda's eyes widened. "You're Daredevil. Matt Murdock."
"Guilty." Matt's smile was gentle. "One of Earth's newest Avengers, according to your brother. Though I think 'newest' is relative at this point."
"Wanda, these are the people who've been helping me search," Pietro said, one arm still around his sister's shoulders as if he couldn't quite believe she was real. "This is Obi-Wan, Anakin and Matt joined the Avengers while we've been out here"
Obi-Wan stepped forward with diplomatic grace. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you properly, Ms. Maximoff. Your brother speaks very highly of you. As do the rest of the Avengers."
"Vision returned to us recently," Pietro added. "You're the last one we needed to find. The team's complete again."
Wanda felt something loosen in her chest—a tension she hadn't realized she'd been carrying. "Vision's safe? He's okay?"
"More than okay," Matt said. "Though he's been concerned about you. We all have been."
"I want to thank you," Matt continued. "For what you did in Sokovia. For preventing the worst outcome. Heroes like you make it possible for heroes like us to exist."
Wanda blinked, caught off-guard by the sincerity. "I... thank you. That means more than you know."
Around them, the Nightsisters had formed a loose perimeter, weapons still half-drawn, clearly uncertain how to respond to this strange reunion. One of the elder witches made a subtle gesture, and the others began to withdraw, giving the group space while maintaining watchful vigilance.
Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Matt noticed but said nothing, letting the twins have their moment.
Then Wanda's expression shifted from joy to something sharper. Her hand came up and smacked Pietro on the back of his head.
"Ow! What was that for?" Pietro yelped, stumbling forward.
"For showing up here unannounced and nearly starting a diplomatic incident!" Wanda's voice carried that particular mix of affection and exasperation that only siblings could achieve.
"They pointed weapons at us first!" Pietro protested, already moving—his hand darting out to muss her hair in retaliation.
"Because you arrived in a military ship without warning!" Wanda caught his wrist, yanked, and suddenly they were grappling like children.
"How was I supposed to warn you? You didn't exactly leave a forwarding address!" Pietro's free hand went for her ear—the classic sibling move.
"Pietro Maximoff, don't you dare—ow!" Wanda's threat cut off as he tugged. She immediately retaliated by grabbing a fistful of his silver hair. "Let go!"
"You first!"
"I'm older!"
"By twelve minutes!"
What followed was a spectacle that would have horrified any combat instructor but was instantly recognizable to anyone who'd ever had a sibling: hair-pulling, ear-tugging, cheek-pinching, forehead-flicking, and a truly impressive variety of attempts to trip each other while maintaining enough of a grip to prevent actual falling.
"This is fascinating," Anakin observed, watching the twins wrestle with undisguised amusement. "I've heard about it, but seeing it in person is something else."
"Should we intervene?" Obi-Wan asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
"Let them sort it out," Matt said calmly. His head tilted in that distinctive way. "Though we might want to warn them—we've got an audience."
Two sets of small footsteps approached. Obi-Wan and Anakin turned to see Illyana and Merlin walking toward the brawling twins with expressions of mingled curiosity and concern.
"Who do you think they are?" Anakin asked quietly.
"I suspect we're about to find out," Obi-Wan replied.
The twins remained oblivious, too caught up in their battle. Wanda had Pietro's nose pinched between her knuckles, applying a gentle but insistent noogie to his temple. Pietro countered by pinching both her cheeks and pulling outward, making her look ridiculous.
Neither noticed the two young Nightsisters until—
"Wanda!" Illyana's voice cut through the chaos.
The twins froze mid-grapple—Wanda's hand still on Pietro's head, his fingers still stretched her cheeks—and looked down at two small faces staring up at them with wide eyes.
"Oh!" Wanda immediately released her brother, smoothing down her disheveled hair and trying to regain some dignity. "Girls! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you follow all this way."
She gently shepherded them forward with hands on their backs, steering them toward Pietro. "Come here. I want you to meet someone very important."
Pietro stared at the two young Nightsisters, then at Wanda, then back at the girls. His expression cycled through confusion, realization, and barely contained glee. "Wait. Did you... did you adopt them?"
"It's not official," Wanda said quickly. "I'm their guardian. There's a difference."
"Oh my God." Pietro's grin was enormous. "While we were out saving the galaxy, you became a mom."
"I am not—" Wanda started.
"Does this make me Uncle Pietro?" He was already kneeling to the girls' level, that irrepressible Maximoff charm on full display. "Because I take that responsibility very seriously."
"What does that even mean?" Wanda demanded.
"Natasha adopted Mara," Pietro explained, standing up. "And Grogu is basically the Avengers' collective child. Everyone's a parent."
"Grogu?" Wanda, Anakin, and Obi-Wan said simultaneously, all equally confused.
"Long story," Pietro said. "Involves a bounty hunter, a lot of explosions, and the cutest little green kid you've ever seen. I'll explain later."
Wanda shook her head, shelving that confusion for future examination. "Why are you here, Pietro? Why now?"
Obi-Wan's expression turned serious. "We've learned of a Zabrak warrior from Dathomir—a Nightbrother—who's been attacking Republic outposts. Killing Jedi and clone troopers. We came here to investigate his origins and hopefully find a way to stop him."
Wanda's brow furrowed. She thought of Savage Opress, of Mother Talzin's machinations, of the complex web of alliances and vendettas that tangled across this world.
"This is the first I'm hearing about active attacks," she said carefully. "But you should speak with Mother Talzin or the other clan leaders. They'll have better information than I can provide."
"Thank you," Anakin said. "Quicksilver, you stay here with your sister. We'll handle the diplomacy."
Pietro nodded, already turning back to Wanda and the girls. The three visitors—two Jedi and one blind vigilante—started toward the village center, Nightsisters parting to let them pass with wary respect.
"The central building," Wanda called after them. "Mother Talzin will come to you."
"Appreciated," Obi-Wan replied.
Once they were out of earshot, Wanda turned to her brother. "Pietro, these are Illyana and Merlin. Girls, this is my brother—the one I've told you about."
"The childish one?" Merlin asked innocently.
Pietro's mouth dropped open in mock offense. "What have you been telling them about me?"
"Only the truth," Wanda said sweetly.
"I'm the cool twin," Pietro informed the girls seriously. "Don't let her lies deceive you. I'm older, wiser, and significantly more awesome."
"By twelve minutes," Wanda muttered.
"Twelve important minutes." Pietro suddenly vanished in a blur of motion. When he reappeared a heartbeat later, he was juggling three small knives he'd somehow acquired. "See? Cool."
Both girls' eyes went wide. "Wow!"
"And there's the showing off," Wanda said. "Like I told you—childish."
"As if you haven't been using your powers to entertain them," Pietro shot back, making the knives disappear as quickly as they'd appeared.
"She has!" Illyana said immediately, any loyalty to Wanda evaporating in the face of tattling opportunities. "Every day!"
"It's amazing," Merlin added. "She can do anything with her magic. She made it rain flowers once. Inside the house."
"Merlin!" Wanda's protest was half-hearted at best.
Pietro's grin was triumphant. "I knew it. You're as much of a show-off as I am."
"I am not—"
"You absolutely are."
"Pietro Maximoff—"
"Wanda Maximoff—"
They glared at each other for approximately two seconds before both started laughing. It was the kind of laughter that came from relief, from joy, from the simple pleasure of being together after too long apart.
Illyana and Merlin watched with obvious delight, these strange new dynamics between the twins something magical in itself.
"Come on," Wanda said finally, slinging an arm around Pietro's shoulders. "Let's get you settled. I have so much to tell you."
"And I want to hear all of it," Pietro replied, mirroring her gesture. "Starting with how you ended up on a planet of magic space witches with two adopted daughters."
"They're not—"
"Adopted daughters," Pietro repeated cheerfully. "Aunt Nat is going to love this. Uncle Scott will probably cry."
"Oh God, I haven't even thought about telling everyone—"
"Too late! I'm absolutely broadcasting this to the entire team the moment we're in range."
"Pietro!"
But there was no heat in it. Just joy. Just the simple, profound relief of having her brother back.
They walked toward the village together—twins, young Nightsisters, family in all the ways that mattered—while behind them, Jedi and Nightsisters negotiated the complex dance of diplomacy.
The galaxy was at war. Ancient evils were returning. Cosmic forces were stirring.
But for this moment, in this place, two siblings were reunited.
And that was enough.