Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. The last couple of weeks at work have been a mare, not helped by being ill, and trying to get everything in order before taking this week off. Why is it that the stress getting ready, and coming back from leave almost makes the leave itself not worth it...? That and a couple of other issues together knocked me for a complete loop, and I haven't touched my laptop for at least ten days. Fortunately MKB my lovely Beta is here this week and has kicked me back into touch. So thank you all for your support and for your patience... knowing that almost 900 people are following this story is amazing and very humbling.
The next couple of chapters draw on a variety of traditional myths and legends. I have no claim on Marvel or JK Rowling's characters, but the House of Branwen and its inhabitants are all my own...
Merrick x
Harry and Natasha spent a quiet and lazy morning at Grimmauld Place before repacking their baggage and apparating to their destination as instructed. Leaving the secluded garden, which Harry explained was an official apparition point, they walked down a wide pleasant shopping street. Looking around, Natasha took in the variety of small shops, with a distinct preponderance of crystals, dragons and Arthurian references before turning back to Harry... "Oh you have got to be joking me... are we in Glastonbury?"
Harry smiled and shrugged, "I know, it's a cliché, but what can I say? There's always a foundation to every myth, they don't just spring up out of nowhere..." Harry took Natasha's hand and led her down through the market place then on into the outskirts of the town, following the tourist route to the Chalice Well gardens, paying the entrance fee to the young woman on the gate with a smile of thanks. At this time of the year the gardens were quiet, with only the odd tourists, and a few locals enjoying the tranquil atmosphere. No one looked twice at the young couple wandering around the gardens, hand in hand. Natasha looked around appreciatively.
"This is nice"
Harry put his arm around her waist. "Oh, you have no idea, just wait and see."
"So where do we find this B..." she was silenced by a finger to her lips…
"Shhh. Not here"
He led her past the circular pools, following the path of the stream to the point where the water cascaded down a rock face. Stepping across the stream, Harry faced a dry stone wall. Taking a careful look over his shoulder for anyone observing them, Harry reached into his pocket and cursed under his breath.
"Tash. I don't suppose you have a knife by any chance...?"
She huffed. "Silly question Magic Man" bending to retrieve a small dagger from her boot. "What do you need it for... whoa... what the...?"
Harry looked unconcernedly down at the bleeding cut across the palm of his hand. "Some wizards use blood to seal dark magic rituals, but there is a more ancient form of magic in which blood is given as a payment, a symbolic sacrifice to the guardian spirits of a building or place, such as this. Watch..."
Taking out his wand, he tapped a series of six stones in the wall in careful sequence, before placing his hand, palm down onto a seventh, smearing blood across its surface, muttering something under his breath.
Natasha had seen evidence of Harry's power; she had had her appearance changed completely, been transported all over the country, and had thought that she was incapable of being surprised any further...
She was wrong.
She watched wide eyed, as the stones in front of her dissolved like smoke in the wind to reveal a landscape beyond...
"Harry, what is this?"
Harry stepped through without hesitation, turning back to offer her his hand. The schoolboy grin was irresistible. "Natasha Romanoff, you are about to see that which no muggle has seen in the annals of written history.
Welcome to the Isle of Avalon..."
ooo0ooo
Before she met Harry Potter, Natasha believed that she had lost the capacity for life to surprise her. Since that morning in the Copper Kettle in London, she had watched stunned as her own face and body changed before her eyes. She had spoken to moving portraits, drunk tea with a witch from a floating tea tray, travelled by fireplace and by magical teleportation. More incredibly still, to those that knew her well, she had peeled back her carefully constructed armour, and laid herself open, emotionally and physically to another human being. The Avengers, she thought, would never believe any of it.
But this?
The Isle of Avalon was a myth, a fairy story...
Like magic itself...
Taking a deep breath, she took Harry's hand and stepped through the portal.
ooo0ooo
The garden, the tourists and the bustling town had disappeared; instead Natasha stood by a lake surrounded by trees and silence. The other side of the lake was obscured by swirling wreaths of mist, only emphasising the sense of isolation. She spun around seeking reassurance in a way back, but behind her there were only more trees. No window leading back to the garden, to the world she knew.
She was a trained KGB agent, SHIELD agent – the Black Widow - one of Earth's Mightiest Heroes. She. Did. Not. Panic. The fact that her hands were cold and sweaty and her heart was slamming a frenzied tempo against her ribs was nothing more than an adrenaline rush that would pass in a moment. Even the tremors running through her were due solely to the loss of the Glastonbury sunshine.
It was gone. The world that she knew... everything that she knew was gone... and there was no way back.
"Tash... are you OK?"
She finally managed to take a deep breath, her voice menacingly calm through the roaring in her ears. "Harry. Where the hell are we?"
In contrast, Harry was modelling an expression that could best be described 'kid in a candy store'. "Like I said, the Isle of Avalon"
"No... I mean... where are we?" Instead of calming, she could hear her voice rising, feel her hands shaking. "Where is Glastonbury, the garden, the people?" Something was building inside her, she couldn't breathe...
The next thing Harry knew he was flat on his back with Natasha kneeling over him, knife in hand. Her eyes were wide and panicked, face so pale she was almost grey ...
"What the fuck did you do...?"
Harry didn't fight back, didn't even think of trying to escape. He simply lay there, palms up trying very hard not to think about the small but lethally sharp blade that was far too close to his neck for comfort.
"Tash"
"Tasha"
The hand at his throat was twitching disconcertingly. Harry kept his voice very low and even so as not to stress her further. "Tasha, sweetheart. You're alright. You're safe. I'm sorry, I should have explained this to you better. You've dealt with my magic so well, that I took it for granted that you would take this in your stride. Please, put the knife down."
Very slowly he brought a hand up to carefully remove the knife from her hand, setting it to one side, where she could still see it. He could vanish it, but she was strung tightly enough, if he took her weapon completely it might tip her over the edge.
"Tash, I'm going to sit up now OK?"
Numbly she backed off, her whole body too tight, too controlled. Once he was in a sitting position Harry reached for her, resting a hand on her cheek, amazed at how cold her skin was.
The blue eyes that had been staring at the floor as though mesmerised slowly lifted to his.
"I'm sorry"
"Come here." Harry stood up, pulling Natasha to her feet and into his arms.
"I'm so sorry" Her voice was muffled by his jacket.
He ran his hands down her back, feeling the tension slowly ebb out of her body... "Don't worry about it."
"But I could have killed you"
"Yes, you could. But I'm not exactly helpless you know". He smiled. "Don't be deceived by this mild mannered and boyish exterior, 'Saviour of the Wizarding World' remember. And I've had to deal with some pretty scary people over my career you know. I could have stopped you if I had to."
Her face was skeptical, but she let it pass. "So we're here. What happens now...?"
Hands on her shoulders, he set her away from him, turning her around.
There was a boat waiting at the edge of the lake. A long narrow boat, the kind she'd seen in pictures of British Universities – Oxford – or was it Cambridge? At one end, pole in hand was a tall hooded figure. The scene reminded her uncomfortably of the ferryman to the world of the dead.
"Are you sure this isn't the River Styx Harry?"
There was a dry chuckle, and the boatman pushed his hood back to reveal a thin, wrinkled face, surrounded by lank silver hair. He should have looked creepy, but the smile, and the good humoured twinkle in the grey eyes put her at her ease.
"Welcome to the Isle of Avalon Natasha Romanoff. Mr Potter, it is an honour to meet you Sir. I am Beineon the Boatman. The Lady of the Isle bid me bring you to her."
Harry inclined his head formally. "Thank you Beineon." The boatman held out a calloused hand to assist them into the boat.
"Please be seated. These boats are easy to tip if you don't know what you're doing. It has been many of your centuries since I last lost a passenger overboard. I do not wish to break that streak."
Natasha looked at Harry, eyebrows raised. Centuries she mouthed.
Beineon chuckled. "Time on the Isle runs differently to the mortal world Miss Romanoff. This will make it difficult to gauge exactly when you will return. He paused. "Of course that may be a good thing, or it may not..."
Harry frowned... "What does that mean?"
"It means that you are being followed. Those that pursue you will be unable to enter the portal, but they may be waiting for you to emerge. You should be on your guard when the time comes."
Harry and Natasha looked at one another in consternation. "I'm sorry" he said. "We were so careful"
"Your enemies are both cunning and dangerous - and they have formidable assistance. The one they call The Fox now has your scent. You must take care, and remember, the secret of The Isle must be protected at all cost. The consequences of evil gaining access to the power and knowledge of this place are unimaginable"
Natasha nodded, looking over the side of the boat into the dark water, trailing a fingertip over the side. Harry leaned back against the seat, and watched as the mist closed around them.
ooo0ooo
Harry and Natasha had lost track of how long the journey had taken them. The seats in the boat were not particularly comfortable, and the mist seeped a damp chill through their clothing and into their bones. Eventually Natasha gave up and snuggled up against Harry, who wrapped an arm around her. "You cold?"
"Frozen."
"You should have said before. Here." Harry took out his wand and ran it past her with a few murmured words that she couldn't catch.
The feeling of warmth that flooded her was blissful. "Wow. What was that?"
He shrugged, trying not to look smug. "Just a warming charm. Better?"
"Amazing. Like being in a warm bath, but dry. Thank you."
He grinned when he realised that she had no intention of moving from her position against his shoulder. In spite of mysteries, mist and murderous hit men life was good at the moment.
Natasha was just starting to nod off when she was woken by Harry stroking her cheek. "Wake up sleepy, we're there"
She squinted, confused. "What? Oh, right... I'm sorry, did I fall asleep"
Harry nodded stepping easily out of the boat onto the small wooden jetty, turning to help her, which Natasha was grateful for given how stiff her legs were.
"You did, just for a few minutes. I would say you looked adorable, but I kind've like my face the way it is"
She scowled ferociously. "Good choice"
Beineon came to stand behind them, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder, turning them around. Beside him, Harry heard Natasha gasp. In front of them, rising out of the mist was the Tor, truly an Isle in this time. A path, lit by flaming torches, led in a spiral up the steep slope.
"You go on alone from here my friends. I hope that you find whatever it is that you seek. When you are ready I will take you back to your time..."
"Thank you my friend. We will see you soon." Harry turned back to Natasha, holding his hand out. "Come on, time to stretch the kinks out of your legs."
"Lovely" she grumbled. "Can't we call a cab?"
"Well technically we could apparate. But sometimes the walk is part of the process. Part of the ceremony. A time to prepare..."
Natasha muttered something under her breath about new-age mumbo-jumbo, but set off along the path at a good pace.
Half way up the path they reached a large flat topped boulder, under an oak tree where they were clearly supposed to stop and rest. Harry took two bottles of water from his bag, passing one to Natasha before laying back, taking a few grateful breaths, looking into at the tree thoughtfully. "Interesting"
Natasha was looking across the landscape, trying to wrap her mind around the complete absence of any signs of human habitation. "What is it?"
"Did you know that oak trees feature heavily in Druidic worship, and do you see up there...?"
"What am I looking for?"
"Mistletoe. The Golden Bough"
"The what?"
Harry chuckled. "You really need to brush up on your Norse mythology you know. We're back to your friend Loki"
Natasha snorted. "Oh he's no friend of mine. What's the connection?"
"It's been a while since I read any Norse mythology myself, but the legend goes something like this. Thor had a brother. Baldur the Beloved as I recall, who was loved by all things. But – and I'm a bit sketchy at this part – I think that Frigga had a vision of his death – or he did, I forget. But anyway, Frigga extracted a promise from all living things that they wouldn't harm him – except the mistletoe, because how could that harm anyone?"
"Did it?"
He nodded. "Loki the trickster persuaded a blind god who's name eludes me to throw a spear made of mistletoe at Baldur and it killed him. Whether he meant to kill him isn't clear."
"What happened to Loki?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't remember. There are various punishments attributed to Loki in the myths. Something about being chained to a tree, having his lips sewn up..."
"Ouch"
"...yeah, ouch. But the worst was the snake. He was chained to a rock while this snake dripped venom in his eyes and face."
"Sucks to be him. I didn't like the guy but still... that's horrible."
Harry watched her expression closely. "He got to you...?"
"He's a murdering psychopath with blood on his hands. But no more so than me. I didn't like him, but he was ... clever... Could probably be charming if he put his mind to it... and tough, tough as a cockroach."
"A worthy adversary?"
"Yes. A worth adversary." She rose, holding out her hand. "Come on, or it'll be dark before we get to the top."
They completed the rest of the journey in silence.
ooo0ooo
Both Natasha and Harry considered themselves fit, but they were both weary and breathing hard by the time they reached the top, looking around, a little bewildered.
Natasha's face fell. "There's nothing here Harry"
He shook his head. "Oh no, there's something here, there always is. We just have to find it." Carefully, methodically they searched the wooded hilltop, until a cry from Natasha brought him to a small clearing in the trees. Within the clearing was a small stone circle, and within the circle was a single tree.
"The Glastonbury Thorn. In our time it grows in the Abbey Grounds, but here…."
"Beyond the Arthurian basics, my knowledge of British mythology is a little sketchy. What is its significance?"
"You know the hymn – Jerusalem?" She nodded. "It's the Glastonbury legend. It tells of how Joseph of Arimathea – the friend that bequeathed a tomb to the crucified Jesus – was a merchant who travelled here, and planted his staff, which rooted into a thorn tree. The Glastonbury Thorn. Some of the stories even suggest that he brought Jesus with him, as a young man."
"You're full of stories aren't you Mr Magic Man. Who needs Wikipedia when I have you? But we still don't know what we have to do next."
Harry scowled. "Oh yes we do. I'm afraid that this is going to hurt…" Carefully examining the tree, he selected the longest, sharpest thorn - taking a deep breath he drove the it straight into his palm - into the cut he had made only a few hours earlier, closing his eyes at the arrow of pain that shot up his arm and into his shoulder. Behind him he heard Natasha gasp, her hand clutching his shoulder hard enough to bruise.
"Harry!"
Harry took a deep breath suddenly fragrant with herbs, and opened his eyes. The woods had vanished without a trace; instead they stood in a courtyard, filled with small beds of herbs. A spring ran through a number of small channels around the beds, filling the courtyard with its music. The buildings around them were low, primarily single story, with pale walls and tiled roofs. The effect was not dissimilar to a reconstruction of a Roman villa that Harry had visited once. The sound of footsteps on the gravel path behind them caused them both to turn.
"Welcome to my home Harry Potter. Natasha Romanoff, you too are most welcome. It has been many, many centuries since a muggle entered this place. Your quest must be grave indeed."
The speaker was a small woman, only a little over five feet tall, plump and reassuring. Had she been a mortal woman, Harry would have guessed her to be in her late thirties or a little older. Long dark red hair hung in a simple braid down her back. She wore a very plain long dress of a deep blue cloth, with a paler hooded cloak over her shoulders.
"I am Branwen, Keeper of this house and all it protects. Please, enter and be welcome; for the day draws to its close and you must be weary. A room has been prepared for you; refresh yourselves, and we will speak further over supper. My apprentice will show you to your room."
Harry bowed, a little awkwardly. "We thank you for your hospitality Lady Branwen, we will see you at supper." Taking Natasha's hand, he followed the young girl, who looked no more than twelve, through a doorway and into a second courtyard, full of herbs and flowers like the first, but with a tall obelisk at its centre. Water flowed from the heart of the stone into a multitude of channels, and Harry realised that this was probably the water source for the spring in the first courtyard. On the far side of the courtyard, was another low building, with a covered veranda. Their guide led them up to one of the doors laid a hand on the dark wood and murmured an incantation before stepping back.
"Please, enter Sir, my Lady. I will return for you in two hours to conduct you to supper." With a bobbed curtsy she slipped away into the lengthening shadows.
Natasha looked at the door a little apprehensively. Harry smiled reassuringly. "Relax. We made it. If they wanted to stop us it would have been much easier to just stop us at the portal, rather than letting us get here then try to get rid of us." Reaching out he took her hand. "Sometimes a doorway – is just a doorway. Come on"
The room was simply furnished, with a lot of wood, and natural wools and linens, the bed, nowhere near the size of Harry's at home, but perfectly adequate for two. A table and a small mirror, capable of serving as a dressing table or as a worktable stood under the window. Peering around a side door, Natasha was relieved to find washing facilities that were basic, but recognisable.
"It appears we're expected to dress for dinner."
Turning she saw that Harry had opened another door, which proved to be a small wardrobe, filled with clothing similar to that worn by Branwen and her apprentice.
"Well it's a change from black leather I suppose…"
Natasha took a deep breath, scented with old wood, herbs and the beeswax candles which filled every nook and alcove of the room and felt herself relax for the first time since they had crossed the threshold of the portal. She found herself suddenly and uncharacteristically tired. Seeing her expression, Harry wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.
"We have a little time before we need to change for dinner, why don't you have a nap".
It was Natasha's first instinct to refuse, that only children and old ladies took naps in the afternoon; but she was very weary, and the bed, with its soft deep blue cover, looked very tempting.
"Well I suppose, if you put that way. Are you joining me?"
Harry had been just about to say no, when he found himself smothering a huge yawn. Natasha smiled. "Well I guess that answers my question".
The fate of the world hung in the balance, and their enemies were amassing against them, but for a little while, in a sanctuary beyond time, Harry and Natasha slept in peace.
ooo0ooo
Almost two hours later, having washed up and changed, Harry smoothed his hair as best he could and surveyed his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Like the rest of the House of Branwen it was lit by a multitude of small lamps, which lit magically whenever the room was entered. The soft robe of unbleached wool, tied at the waist with a braided leather belt which had been provided for him was not that dissimilar to wizarding robes, but after weeks in muggle clothing it seemed very strange. He wondered what Natasha would think. Opening the door he stopped, smiling at the sight before him.
Natasha was seated at the table by the window, brushing out her hair. Generally she either plaited it or wore it in a simple pony tail, but tonight it appeared she was wearing it down in shimmering waves of red and brown. Seeing him watching her in the mirror she rose, looking a little uncertain. Harry could well understand her discomfort in such an unfamiliar situation, but there was no reason, the long dress not dissimilar in style to the one worn by Branwen that afternoon, was a wonderfully flattering shade of blue and fitted perfectly.
"Relax, you look beautiful."
But the small, stressed frown didn't fade. "I don't like this Harry. I should have waited in London… I don't belong here. This is your world, not mine."
"Tash, believe me, this isn't even my world. I'm as out of my depth here as you are." He smoothed his hand over her hair, coiling it in a thick smooth rope over his fingers, drawing her closer for a kiss, which was only broken by a tap on the door.
Harry muttered a curse under his breath. "One moment…"
He retrieved two cloaks from the back of the cupboard, settling the smaller over Natasha's shoulders. "Come on. It'll be supper for three or maybe four, maximum, not a state banquet. You'll be fine." Opening the door, he found the apprentice waiting patiently on the doorstep, lantern in hand. "Good evening"
"Good evening Sir, my Lady. Please follow me…"
Branwen's apprentice led them through another door opening off their courtyard, and down a long flagged corridor. At the end of the corridor she placed a hand on a door, which swung open at her touch. "Please go in. Lady Branwen will be with you very shortly. There is wine on the side table, please help yourself." With a small bobbed curtsy she withdrew, closing the door softly behind her
Natasha looked around appreciatively at the comfortable and simply furnished room. "This is lovely, Lady Branwen has excellent taste." She moved to the large fireplace, stretching chilled fingers to the flames.
"Thank you Natasha. I'm pleased that you like it." The Russian whirled, taken by surprise, having not heard their hostess enter. "I am sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I have been told I am very soft footed."
Natasha flushed and turned back to the fire, feeling awkward and out of place. To diffuse the sudden tension, Harry, who was at the side table, offered to pour Branwen a drink but his hostess declined with a smile. "Thank you, no Mr Potter. I drink only water, but please, help yourself"
"Please, call me Harry"
Branwen smiled. "Harry it shall be then. Is your room satisfactory?"
Natasha accepted a goblet of wine from Harry with some gratitude, taking a steadying sip. The wine was flavoured with something, certainly honey, and something else she couldn't put her finger on. "The room is lovely, thank you. As is this wine."
"I am glad you are comfortable. Please don't hesitate to ask Aria if there is anything that you need."
Harry nodded thanks, assuming Aria to be her apprentice. "Is it just the two of you here?"
Branwen shook her head. "I have a couple here who see to mine and Aria's needs. You will have already met Beineon when you arrived."
"The boatman?"
"That's right. He also tends the garden, and does any odd jobs. His wife Chara is an excellent cook I think you will find." A small bell was heard nearby. "Supper is ready. Come, let us go through."
She led them across the corridor to another room where three places were laid at a scrubbed wooden table with wine goblets and platters of bread and fruit already set out. Tall windows down one wall – shuttered tightly against the night air tonight – would doubtless open the room onto the scented courtyard in the summer. A blazing fire at one end of the room drove out any possible chill.
The meal was as good as they had been promised. A simple spiced stew of pulses and vegetables was followed by platters of cheeses to go with the fruit and bread. Jugs of wine and water accompanied the food. During the meal they talked of this and that, waiting to address the issue of their mission until they returned to the sitting room, where Harry finally showed Branwen the information they had gleaned so far. Their hostess studied the documents carefully, before leaning back in her chair, gazing into the flames thoughtfully.
"You were right to come here on this errand. I believe that the resources of this house will be able to help you. Breakfast will be brought to you tomorrow, after which Aria will call for you, and we will consult my library together. In the meantime, tell me of those that hunt you. Beineon tells me that in spite of your best efforts you are being followed, and there is the possibility that your enemies will await you when you return to your own place and time. Tell me of them."
Natasha leaned back in her seat and thought for a moment. "Are you aware of the terrible events that took place in the non … in the muggle world in the first half of the twentieth century?"
Branwen nodded. "You speak of the two great wars I presume"
Natasha nodded. "Adolf Hitler's forces – the forces of the Third Reich as he named them, had a research division. Both Hitler, and the head of this division, a man named Johann Schmidt had an obsession with the search for ancient artifacts…"
Harry settled back in his seat and listened as Natasha outlined a similar tale to the one he had heard what seemed like weeks ago in Kingsley's office. When she had finished Branwen took a deep breath. "And it is these people, this – HYDRA – who seek this thing, this source of power?"
Harry and Natasha nodded.
"Then you were most certainly right to come here. When we meet in the morning, we will consult with the wisdom of the ancients. In the meantime, I will must bid you a good night."
When she had left them, Harry and Natasha finished their drinks, and walked slowly back to the courtyard. Even in the night time chill it still held the faint scent of herbs and flowers. Natasha paused to brush her hand over a lavender bush, savouring the lingering sweetness. "It must be lovely here in the summer. So different from New York."
"Is New York home these days?"
She shrugged. "I suppose home is Avengers' Tower for now… no … home is where my friends are, Clint, Cap, Bruce, even Tony and Thor."
"You could just give it up. Stay here. In London I mean, not here on the Isle"
"With you? "
"If you wanted to. Or if you're not keen on Britain we could travel. I… I have money. We wouldn't have to work…"
"What about your work here?"
"I've been saving the world since I was eleven years old Tash. They have to learn to do without me at some point."
"So... we just run away?"
Harry pulled her against him, his other hand cradling the back of her head. "We do whatever you want… no… don't answer now…." He was dropping small kisses on her forehead, her closed eyes, cheek and jaw. "…just promise me you'll think about it Tasha."
She shivered under his touch, wrapping her arms around his waist, her lips ghosting over his. "I'll think about it. I'm not promising, but I'll think about it."
So engrossed were they, in the moment, that they were both unaware of the eyes watching them from the shadows.
"Lady Branwen…Does he know what has been promised, do you think?"
"It appears not Aria."
"Should we inform anyone of this…. development?"
Branwen shook her head and turned away "No. Let us see what the fates decree for these two. I suspect that, in despite of whatever has been planned and plotted by others, they will work out their own destiny. Bed for you now child, it is late and we have much to do in the morning if we are to solve this mystery."
"Goodnight Lady Branwen"
"Goodnight Aria"
With a last look over her shoulder at her two guests, now heading for their own room, utterly engrossed in one another, Branwen made her own way to bed and all was silent.