Natasha winced and coughed, spitting out a bit of damp leaf as she hauled herself back to her feet for the second time in as many minutes. Her boots sank slightly into the damp, uneven ground and she looked around in confusion for a moment, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. Next to her, Yelena groaned and rolled over onto her back, lying flat and still in the pile of leaf litter they’d fallen into.

A short distance away, Pietro was also getting his feet back under himself, looking around cautiously. Natasha blinked. His clothes were different. She looked down at Yelena, who was also wearing a completely different outfit than she had been only seconds earlier, then at herself to confirm that they all were in the same situation. She looked back up and exchanged a confused and concerned look with Pietro before they turned back to their surroundings.

The empty lot was gone. The street was gone. Wanda was gone.

Instead, a small, forested gully stretched around them, its steep walls layered with dark soil and tangled roots, while slender trunks of birch and maple rose above, branches forming a lattice of green over their heads. The air was cool and carried the rich, sharp scent of moss and wet bark. Nearby, a small trickle of water wound its way over some stones, its quiet gurgle blending with birdsong filtering down from above in hesitant, warbling notes.

Yelena pulled herself to her feet, muttering to herself in Russian, then joined them in looking around at the unfamiliar place they’d appeared in. After a second, her sister shot her a strange look. “What are you wearing?” she asked, then looked down at herself. “What am I wearing?”

Natasha took stock of her own clothing for a moment—an off-white linen tunic under a stiff, boiled leather jerkin fastened with brass buckles and roughspun pants tucked into tall leather boots. No pockets. No sign of her phone or keys or anything else, but a pair of long sheathes hung from her belt at either hip, each holding a dagger the length of her forearm. Yelena and Pietro were dressed in similar outfits. They looked for all the world like a group of medieval reenactors or LARPers.

She had no idea what had happened. It had to be a result of Wanda’s reality-altering magic, somehow, but the specifics… Wanda had touched the door that had appeared in the empty lot—had that actually, somehow, been the front door of the house from Wanda’s visions?—there had been a brilliant flash of red and gold light, then they were here.

“Oh… oh my. What happened?” another voice groaned, confused and alarmed, from behind a nearby fallen log. A moment later, Mrs Davis, the older woman they’d met a couple of houses down from the empty lot, lifted herself to her feet, brushing away some errant leaves with shaking hands. It looked as though she’d been hit with whatever had changed their clothes as well, but she was dressed more like a peasant than a warrior, with only a plain, roughspun off-white dress under a hooded travelling cloak.

“Is everyone okay?” Nat asked.

Her own arm was still sore from when she’d tumbled across the road earlier, but it wasn’t anything too serious. It was pretty clear that Wanda hadn’t been fully aware of what she was doing and hadn’t meant to do it, but it still stung a little, the way she’d slapped her away with her magic. Natasha pushed that thought from her mind. It wasn’t important right now—she had to focus on their current situation.

As Yelena and Pietro responded to her in the affirmative, she stepped over toward their other, unexpected companion. “Mrs Davis, are you alright? You’re not hurt?”

“No, no I don’t think so,” the woman said, anxiety and confusion warring in her tone. She looked at Natasha, then around at the trees. “Where on Earth…?”

Nat shook her head. “I’m not sure. Don’t worry, we’ll get you home safe,” Nat said, glancing back toward Pietro. “We just need to find Wanda. Pietro, can you scout out where we are?”

He nodded, turning away to break into a run. He only got a few paces—having travelled only a completely normal amount of distance, instead of blurring away—before stopping dead, looking down at himself in confusion. After a moment, he turned back toward Nat and tried to sprint toward her, letting out a small grunt of effort as he sprung forward and succeeded only in covering the same, ordinary amount of distance that anyone else would have. He met Nat’s gaze, his eyes wide with shock. “Uh, small problem,” he said.

Natasha blinked. “Your power’s not working?”

Pietro bounced on his heels a couple of times then darted left and right, once again with only the speed of a normal, unenhanced person. He looked back at her and shrugged helplessly, his expression tight with concern.

“That’s… not good, right?” Yelena asked, looking worriedly between the two of them.

“What is going on?” Mrs Davis demanded, her hands clutched anxiously in front of her. “Where are we? This is all very… I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Nat held up her hands. “Alright, everyone just take it easy for a second. We’re together, we’re unhurt, everything is fine. We just need to get our bearings.”

Yelena frowned. “Did Wanda teleport us somehow? I don’t remember seeing a portal.”

“Not a portal, but there was the door,” Natasha reminded her.

“I don’t think it was a portal,” Pietro responded with a shake of his head. “A portal wouldn’t have changed our clothes. Or done something to my powers. I think… I think maybe this is a Hex?”

“A Hex?” Nat asked.

“Wanda can… ugh. She doesn’t like to talk about it—she’s worried about what Stark and the others would think if they knew the details.” He paused, looking a little uncomfortable, rubbing at his arm with one hand. “A Hex is like… it’s a spell. It makes it so she can alter reality with her mind. Working out how to do one properly was one of the reasons she wanted to come here. It’s what happened in Westview, the first time, by accident—that’s what she meant when she said she took over the town. It was like what she did in Wakanda, but bigger and stronger. Miles long, affecting everything and everyone inside.”

“Okay, and when you say alter reality…?” Yelena asked, sounding a little alarmed.

“The house—her house—was made entirely by magic. She said the Hex controlled people’s minds, too. It’s not… I don’t know. She never really went into the details. I didn’t picture anything like this, though. She told me that a Hex let her alter what was already there. This feels…” he trailed off and shrugged, unable to articulate what he meant, but Nat could sense something off about this place, too.

She’d been in a lot of different forests over the years, but this one felt… artificial. The tree placement didn’t feel completely natural, somehow. It was a weird thing to think, but she felt a little like if she could walk to the edge and turn around, what she’d see would look like a movie set. It was like it was designed to look like a forest rather than actually being one; more like a highly detailed idea or impression of a forest than anything real. Even beyond that, there was a lightness to their surroundings that made it all feel a little surreal.

“I don’t think this is a Hex,” Natasha said slowly, thinking it through. “She was losing control—maybe she was on the verge of creating something like that—but then she used the Stone. Interrupted it. Reined her magic back in and made that door instead. With the Mind Stone as a catalyst… could we have been drawn into her mind, somehow? Wanda’s described people’s mindscapes as seeming like physical spaces before.”

Mrs Davis was looking at them like they were crazy. “I’ll tell you what this is… this is a kidnapping! And I think it’s high time I involved the local authorities.” She started to fumble with her cloak, searching for pockets, then look around her feet, trying to find something that was definitely not there. After a moment, she deflated a little. “Okay, well, I’ve been robbed, as well.”

“Mrs Davis… Sharon, please,” Natasha said, stepping over to her, letting an easy, friendly smile touch her face. Her body settled into a relaxed posture, hands held up in a disarming gesture. “No one’s been kidnapped. I’m not sure if you recognise me, but I’m an Avenger. Just leave this to us. We’ll work out what’s going on and get you home safe.”

The older woman squinted at her for a moment, then her eyes lit up with a dawning look of realisation. “Oh my! I thought I’d seen your face before! You’re the Black Widow!” She looked over at Pietro excitedly. “And you’re the new one! Your sister—Wanda—she was the red girl!”

Pietro tried to give a reassuring grin as he nodded at her, but he was doing kind of a terrible job of masking his own anxiety.

“Yes, exactly,” Nat confirmed. “So there’s no need to worry.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“I mean…” Yelena said unhelpfully, looking around again.

“Okay. First thing’s first, there no point in just standing around here,” Nat said firmly, shooting her an annoyed look. “We should get moving, see if we can find Wanda or anything else. If we can get some elevation, maybe we can spot a landmark.”

No one argued, and a few minutes later they were trudging through the forest, picking a path through the trees. Despite the circumstances, it was actually a relatively pleasant walk through the woods. It had been a little while since Nat had gone hiking. There was still a distinct feeling of unreality to what was happening, but the longer they were here the easier it was to ignore. Dappled sunlight filtered down, muted and cool, through the canopy, the faint scent of damp moss and pine filled the air, and the muffled crunch of leaves beneath their feet joined the occasional birdsong above them. If Natasha wasn’t so concerned about Wanda, she might actually have enjoyed it.

As they walked, more worries started to gnaw at her—they had no idea how big this forest was. Would they need to camp overnight? Should she start looking for food or potable water?

They came upon a small game trail after only a few minutes of walking and Nat decided to follow it. There were no other useful landmarks, and these sorts of trails often led to sources of water. It was better than wandering aimlessly, at least. Not long after they started following the trail, however, a loud, dramatic commotion sounded ahead of them.

“…Music?” Yelena asked, a little confusion in her tone.

Something about it sounded slightly off, the volume not dampened quite right by the trees, but it was definitely music—a big, bombastic, orchestral showtune that sounded vaguely familiar to Natasha. She couldn’t quite place it, though. They quickened their pace a little as the music crescendoed dramatically, though Nat was conscious that Mrs Davis probably wouldn’t be able to maintain it for long.

There was definitely something strange about the music. It didn’t seem to be getting much louder as they drew closer to what Nat had thought was its source. Instead, it started to diffuse oddly, flowing around them as though it was coming from all directions at once. The trees rapidly started to thin and, a minute later, the group emerged from the edge of the woods and came to a stop, weighing the scene laid out before them.

A short slope led down from the treeline, the game trail they’d been following meeting a dirt path that wound its way through a small cluster of timber-framed cottages with thatched roofs. Smoke coiled lazily from stone chimneys, and a faint breeze carried the mingled smells of woodsmoke and fresh baked bread to them. Their vantage point gave them a perfect view of the village square, where a group of people—all dressed like they were extras in a medieval fantasy movie—ran around in a chaotic group, dancing and pirouetting, before coming together in a coordinated step as the music built to a peak, jazz hands flailing in the air.

“Good news!” the villagers sang. “She’s dead!”

What.

“The Witch of Westview is dead! The wickedest witch there ever was—who cursed us with her pain and loss—is dead!”

“What is… why are they singing?” Yelena asked incredulously.

“Oh, I love reenactors!” Mrs Davis said from behind Natasha, a little bit of excitement leaking into her tone. “Is this some sort of Renaissance Faire? Mr Davis used to love them; we haven’t been to one in years, though.”

None of this made any sense. Nat knew where she’d recognised the music from, now. This was Wicked. The musical. Why would… her brain finally caught up with the altered song lyrics. Were they singing about Wanda? That wasn’t possible. Wanda wasn’t… Wanda was fine. They just needed to find her. Natasha glanced around at the others, a tight frown on her face, then started down toward the village square, everyone else following along behind her.

“Good news!” the villagers continued to sing, seemingly oblivious to their presence as they crowed happily. “Good news!”

Suddenly, one of the women broke from the others and pointed toward another small group of people who were approaching the village from the opposite direction. “Look! It’s the Captain!”

Nat’s eyes widened fractionally as she took in the three men. The one in the front bore a medieval-style kite shield, an unmistakeable red, white and blue design emblazoned across the front. The man holding it, however, wasn’t Steve Rogers. He was ruggedly handsome, with a chiselled jawline and neatly trimmed beard. He walked with the same easy confidence as Steve, his broad shoulders filling out his tunic in a pleasant way, a boiled leather cuirass strapped over his torso. There was something about him that really did put Nat in mind of Steve… Shave off the beard and he’d look pretty close, at least.

Flanking fake Steve was a clean-shaven warrior with a heavy plate gauntlet that covered his left arm up to his shoulder, and a darker-skinned man carrying a hooded hunting bird perched on a thick leather glove. It was pretty obvious who they were meant to be, but even beyond the obvious visual clues, they all did still look familiar, somehow…

“Huh.” Yelena said next to her. “Isn’t that Chris Evans? The actor? And I think the guy with the bird played Tupac in the Biggie movie. Notorious.”

Nat blinked. She was right. The three men were all actors, though she couldn’t quite place the guy ‘playing’ Bucky. Careful not to draw any attention to themselves, Nat found a place under the eaves of a house at the edge of the village square for them to observe from.

The three men reached the opposite side of the square and ‘Steve’ stepped forward to address the crowd. “Fellow citizens!” he announced, then began to sing as well. The music had drawn down, almost like it was holding its breath, leaving his distinctive tenor to stand on its own. “Let us be glad, let us be grateful, let us rejoicify that goodness could subdue… the wicked workings of you-know-who! Isn't it nice to know, that good will conquer evil? The truth we all believe’ll, by and by, outlive a lie, for you and—”

The music broke in again, coming in from all around as someone in the crowd interrupted. “No one mourns the wicked!”

“No one cries: ‘they won’t return’!” another chimed in, before the full assembly of villagers came together to sing again. “No one lays a lily on their grave.”

Natasha continued to watch quietly as they sang. She wasn’t exactly an expert, but it seemed like the lyrics were mostly the same as she remembered them, at least until fake Steve chimed in again and started to describe the circumstances that had led to Wanda’s estrangement and death. As he spoke, a slight note of sadness in his voice, it was clear he was talking about the events that had transpired in Wanda’s visions—the glimpse of the future she’d averted.

As the song went on, Pietro nudged Nat’s shoulder, looking at her askance. He looked worried. Nat lifted her chin toward fake Steve. “We need to talk to him,” she said, loudly enough that he could hear her but quietly enough that it wouldn’t interrupt the scene playing out before them. “I don’t know what’s going on, but this is pretty clearly based on Wicked, and if ‘the Captain’ is taking the place of Glinda he might know something.”

A couple minutes later, the song finished and the villagers started to disperse, skipping away happily as they went about their business. No one paid any attention to Nat’s little group beyond a briefly puzzled glance or two. Fake Steve had turned to talk to fake Bucky and fake Sam and, once it was clear that they weren’t going to get caught up in the middle of another song and dance number, Nat walked across the village square toward them, the others in tow.

As they approached, ‘Bucky’ perked up and flicked his head toward them, interrupting his conversation with ‘Steve’, who turned back around and immediately shot Nat his best performative, nice-to-meet-you-citizen smile. He faltered for a bare instant, a fleeting flicker of something crossing his face as he took in the group of them, but then the façade was back in place. “Good morning, citizen!” he said. “How can we help?”

“Hi…” Nat said, a little uncertainly. “Steve?”

He inclined his head. “Captain Steve Rogers, at your service, ma’am.”

Natasha glanced at Yelena, who just shrugged as if to say ‘what are you looking at me for?’. “We were hoping we could talk to you about… about the witch?”

He looked at her consideringly. “Hers is a sad story. I don’t have much else I can say beyond what I already told everyone.”

Now that Nat had had a little time to think about it—and if she was remembering the plot of Wicked correctly—Elphaba, the ‘wicked witch’, had faked her death. She couldn’t recall if Glinda had known that was the case or not… and even if what was happening here was mirroring the musical that closely, it was still a bit of a gamble, but they really had no other leads. She lowered her voice, glancing around to make sure none of the villagers were close enough to overhear as she leant in slightly. “The witch… Wanda. We know she isn’t dead,” she said. “We’re looking for her. Can you help?”

Steve inhaled sharply, an expression of surprise crossing his face, before his expression hardened. He considered her for a moment, then nodded. “Come with me,” he said quietly, then turned and started to walk away from the village, back the way he’d come when he’d originally arrived. His entourage stayed where they were.

Nat exchanged looks with Yelena and Pietro, then glanced at Mrs Davis. “That was Captain America, wasn’t it?” the older woman said—she seemed excited, if still a bit confused. “Why didn’t he recognise you?”

Nat gave her a small, encouraging smile, but didn’t respond, instead turning and walking after Steve. Not willing to be left out, Pietro and Yelena fall into step with her, with Mrs Davis scurrying along after them after a moment’s hesitation. Out of the corner of Nat’s eye, she noticed Bucky and Sam wait for everyone else to pass before following, fanning out a little to either side to surround them.

Ah. Okay.

“Steve,” she said and he stopped immediately, rolling his shoulders a little before turning around to face her. His body language was guarded, ready to spring to the attack at a moment’s notice. She held up her hands, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. “We’re not here to fight. We’re just looking for Wanda. That’s all. Look… It’s me. Natasha. If you’re supposed to be Steve, then you should recognise me,” she said, willing it to be true.

He looked at her like she’d grown an extra head. Whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it wasn’t that. “What?”

“It’s me, Nat,” she repeated, then gestured to the others. “And Pietro and Yelena.”

“That’s… absurd. You don’t look anything like Natasha,” he responded, though there was a little bit of uncertainty in his tone. He lifted his shield a little as he settled into a loose fighting stance, exchanging quick looks with his companions as they did the same, Sam removing the hood from his hunting falcon.

“Steve!” Nat hurriedly waved off Yelena and Pietro, who’d immediately tensed up, alert and ready to fight. “Listen to me. Okay, you don’t think I look like Natasha. Well, to me, you don’t really look much like Steve, either. Something strange is going on; I think we’re being affected by Wanda’s magic. If you know where she is—if you can take us to her—then we can work this out. We don’t need to fight. Please.”

Steve was silent a moment, weighing her words, before he glanced at his companions again. “Thoughts?” he prompted them.

“I don’t trust them,” Bucky said immediately.

“Yeah, but you don’t trust anybody,” Sam countered with a wry smile. “You know she’s right. Something weird is going on. Maybe we can work this out.”

Bucky looked annoyed, but didn’t respond, instead looking back at their leader. After a moment, Steve sighed and lowered his shield. “Last we heard…” he said, a little hesitantly. “Wanda was at the castle.”